The Female of the Species
by Sullen Siren
Summary: Betrayal, Soul Loss, Time Travel, and insanely long, this story spans two very different times and shows us the world that used to be.  Sequel to In Twilight's Wake, Work in Progress.
1. Introduction

****The Female Of The Species   
  
  
  


**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from the television shows Buffy The Vampire Slayer or Angel. I do not own any of the poetry, songs, characters, movies, television shows, or anything else referred to in this story. It all belongs to various rich, powerful, popular, ingenious people who I wish I could be. So no lawsuits, finger-pointing, or rack torture please. I didn't make this stuff, I'm only borrowing it to play with for a while. They'll still be mint condition when I'm done, cross my heart. Send questions, feedback, hate-mail, love letters, and money to adena@atlantic.net. Except for the money part.**   
  
  
  


**Author's Note/Introduction: This story is a sequel to the story [In Twilight's Wake][1]. I was planning on writing a summary for those who wished to read this without reading Twilight as well. However, I had an extraordinarily difficult time condensing my story. Which is probably why it was so long in the first place. This story can stand alone if you remember a few facts that were introduced in the first one. If you haven't read [Twilight][1] and you plan to, don't read any further, as there are spoilers:**

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**1. Xander is now a Mind Reader, a power granted by The Oracles.**

**2. Lindsey Macdonald, Graham from the Initiative, and Riley Finn are dead. Anya and Xander are broken up.**

**3. Katerina is a 700 year old Slayer turned vampire who died battling to save the world with Buffy and company. She was once friends with Angel and Spike. Spike staked her, at her request, before she could lose her soul and turn evil. Buffy is now slowly gaining her memories. **

**4. Buffy, Angel, Spike, Cordelia, Wesley, Giles, Tara, and Willow were all granted "gifts" by the Oracles for their service. We have yet to see what any of those are. **

**5. There are another pair of Oracles who serve the other side. They are the much spoken of Senior Partners of Wolfram & Hart. **

**6. The Oracles for the side of "good" were granted another life on this plane, and are now back here, alive and kicking. **

**7. Wolfram & Hart now has access to the information from the defunct Initiative, and used it to deactivate Spike's chip by remote. **

**8. Katerina, out of necessity, turned Buffy into a vampire. Like Katerina, the blood of vampire and Slayer mixed to create a sort of super-vampire. (God that sounds tacky, doesn't it?) Meaning she has the strengths and immortality of a vamp, but none of their weaknesses. (Holy water, crosses, daylight, no entering without an invite, ect.) They still lack reflections and can be killed by beheading, stakes, and great big incinerating fires. (Thanks Anna, who pointed out to me that I was a big dope and forgot to include this on the list of necessary facts.)**   
  


**I think that's all. If I, or you, think of more I'll post them. If you think of them, drop me an e-mail. If you are better at condensing than me and would like to write up a short summary of Twilight, I will love you forever. Or for a long time, anyway. This sequel may not touch on all of the things I hinted at in my teaser, and is still a work in progress. So expect to wait a bit between parts. I'll try to keep the wait time to a minimum. I hope all of you enjoy this. Below is the full text of the poem that inspired the title. You will see its significance later. Happy reading. And remember, the world turns on feedback and reviews. Even if you hate it, let me know. **   
  
The Female of the Species When the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride, He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside. But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.    
  
When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man, He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can. But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.    
  
When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws, They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws. 'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale. For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.    
  
Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say, For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away; But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other's tale -- The female of the species is more deadly than the male.    
  
Man, a bear in most relations-worm and savage otherwise, -- Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise. Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.    
  
Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low, To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe. Mirth obscene diverts his anger --- Doubt and Pity oft perplex Him in dealing with an issue -- to the scandal of The Sex!    
  
But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same, And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail, The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.    
  
She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast May not deal in doubt or pity -- must not swerve for fact or jest. These be purely male diversions -- not in these her honour dwells. She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.    
  
She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate. And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unchained to claim Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.    
  
She is wedded to convictions -- in default of grosser ties; Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies! -- He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild, Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.    
  
Unprovoked and awful charges -- even so the she-bear fights, Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons -- even so the cobra bites, Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw And the victim writhes in anguish -- like the Jesuit with the squaw!    
  
So it cames that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer With his fellow-braves in council, dare nat leave a place for her Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands To some God of Abstract Justice -- which no woman understands.    
  
And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him Must command but may not govern -- shall enthral but not enslave him. And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail, That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male. -- Rudyard Kipling 

   [1]: http://www.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=story-read&storyid=186566



	2. The British Are . . . Leaving?

**The Female of the Species**   
  
  
  
**"She is wedded to convictions -- in default of grosser ties;** **Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies! --** **He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,** **Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.** **** **Unprovoked and awful charges -- even so the she-bear fights,** **Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons -- even so the cobra bites,** **Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw** **And the victim writhes in anguish -- like the Jesuit with the squaw!** **** **So it came that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer** **With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her** **Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands** **To some God of Abstract Justice -- which no woman understands.** **** **And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him** **Must command but may not govern -- shall enthral but not enslave him.** **And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,** **That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male."** **-- Rudyard Kipling, _The Female of the Species_**   
  
  
  
**Part One:** **The British Are . . . Leaving?** "So many faces in and out of my life Some will last, some will just be now and then. Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes, I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again." -- Billy Joel, Say Goodbye to Hollywood   
  
  
  


_She held her hands to her ears to block the screams. It didn't stop the sounds that pierced her eardrums with howling frequency. Words drifted up as well, words she tried just as hard to block. "Weak, wicked beast! Without me you would be just another demon, killing and maiming at the whim of the evil you bear inside! I hold the reins and strengthen what little humanity you bear within you, and I am rewarded by disobedience, weakness, and tears!" The sound of the lashing chains, heated to burning came then, thudding with unmistakable harshness against bare skin. And then the screams, the apologies, the begging. She'd heard it all before. She'd lain there, hands over her ears and thin blanket pulled over her head to shield her from the scene downstairs. For the thousandth time she swore that she would never cry. Never beg. It never did any good, and Gabrina always regretted it afterwards, wished she'd born the punishment in stoic silence. Stephan respected silence. Gabrina never managed it though. Always when the chains lashed and her skin burned she'd scream, and earn more of the same. The burning chains were new. In years past, he'd used a lash. He'd hated how the lash wounds healed too quickly to leave scars. He believed the punishments bore no lasting effect if Gabrina didn't bear the marks from them. The burning chains left scars. Long lines of deep red, puckered skin up and down her back. Like prison bars._   
  


_She heard the dragging, beaten footsteps began their trek up the steep stairs. She leapt from her pallet and began searching through her meager belongings for the secreted jar of soothing creme she'd gotten from the old witch on the hill, when Stephan was busy studying the fall of the old woman's Tarot cards. He'd been pleased by the woman's reading, She could tell from the smirk on his lips and the way he'd failed to scold Gabrina when she'd stumbled over a break in the floor. The woman had handed her the creme furtively, whispering its use in her ear. She had taken it, hidden it away. For over a year now she'd used it to cool the pain of the burns down Gabrina's back. And the jar never went empty, never lowered its content. It stayed full and fresh. She didn't understand it, but she was grateful. It was her sole secret, and she guarded it jealously from Stephan's cruel, observant gaze. _   
  


_Gabrina appeared at the top of the stairs and she hid her shock, walking forward to help the other girl toward her pallet, sitting her carefully down and peeling the newly donned shirt from her back. Gabrina hissed in pain and closed her eyes as the creme began to soothe the pain. The abused Slayer whispered her thanks and fell asleep sitting up. She paused and studied the sleeping girl. Stephan had strayed from her back. Burns marked her tired face in slashing lines over her cheeks and nose, then crossed the soft flesh of her chest and marred the skin of her arms. He'd used the lash as well, blood ran in rivulets alongside the burns. She daubed at the blood as best she could and smeared the creme along the burns, easing the shirt back over the girl's shoulder, leaving her arms cocooned within. She pushed Gabrina down onto her pallet and pulled a blanket over the sleeping Slayer. She stepped away, returning her precious creme to its hiding place. She settled back on her own pallet and studied the sleeping girl from afar. Gabrina smelled of death. It hung heavy and definite around her, claiming her. She was finished, dead of spirit and soul. Her next time out would be her last. She was just fifteen, her birthday the only memory she had of her youth. Stephan had told her she was born on the first of the year. The only information he'd ever granted Gabrina about her life before he took her. It was more of a concession that he'd given to his younger charge. She didn't even truly know her age, though Gabrina guessed she was in her seventh year. _   
  


_Heavy footsteps tripped up the stairs. She looked up to see Stephan staring back at her. He cast a disgust-filled glance at the sleeping Gabrina. Then the eyes were back on her, assessing, cold, manipulative. He smiled, an expression that lacked mirth or kindness. "Sleep Girl. Tomorrow your training will be tested. It's time you earned your keep, demon spawn. You will hunt tomorrow alongside that one." He waved a hand toward Gabrina. _   
  


_A hint of defiance gleamed in blue eyes, though she couldn't see it. Stephan did, his face darkening with fury even before she spoke. "Gabrina is weak. She cannot hunt tomorrow, My Lord." He swept forward, his fist cracking across her cheek with all the force he could muster. _   
  


_Her small head snapped around. "Gabrina does as I will, as do you. It is not your place to think. It is your duty to obey. Remember that, Twilight. You are nothing without me. I am your Master and your Savior. Without me you are but another of Hell's minions." It was, for him, a gentle lesson. _   
  


_She bowed her head in submission. "Yes, My Lord. I thank you." He turned and left as she lay back in her thin pallet, the inside of her mouth filling with blood from the cheek that had shredded against her teeth with his blow. She felt it began to heal and tears began to leak from her eyes as she watched Gabrina's labored breathing. She cried silently, vowing that it would be the last time she would ever allow tears to fall._   
  


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Buffy Summers opened her eyes, her cheeks wet with tears. Her foggy mind wandered back over her dream. She winced and flung the blankets back and swung her legs over the side of the bed, wiping the tears from her eyes.   
  


The soft click of the door caught her attention. She looked up to see her sister staring at her, concern in her eyes. "Dreams again?" The girl's voice was uncharacteristically quiet.   
  


Buffy sighed. "Yes." She gave Dawn a tight smile. "As if my own dreams weren't bad enough, now I get the added pleasure of bad memories I never even lived." She watched her sister quietly. Dawn had been distant, almost fearful since Buffy had sat her mother and her down to tell them all that had happened, and the truth of what she now was. "Are you alright?"   
  


Dawn shrugged. "Bad dreams seem to be contagious."   
  


Buffy patted the bed next to her. "Well, come tell big sister about it. If it's bad enough, I'll even take you downstairs and make you my famous hot chocolate."   
  


Dawn hesitated, then plopped onto the bed next to her sister. "So you'll microwave the water and dump in the hot chocolate mix all by yourself? I'm impressed."   
  


Buffy smiled. "Be quiet, I don't see a degree in culinary arts on YOUR wall." Dawn shrugged again and looked away. Buffy let her smile fade and waited. When Dawn stayed quiet, she prompted her. "So what's wrong? What was the dream about?"   
  


Dawn looked anywhere but at her. "It was . . . about you."   
  


Understanding showed on Buffy's face. "Oh."   
  


Dawn's shoulders fell. "I know it's stupid, it's not like you're gonna go all Angelus on us . . . . but it's just weird. My sister, the vampire slayer, is a vampire. It's just another weird addition to the already ridiculously strange lives of the Summers family."   
  


Buffy put an arm around her sister's bare shoulders, trying not to be hurt when the girl winced at the coolness of her arm. "Dawn, I'm still me. Still Buffy. The same sister whose clothes you steal and whose CD's you love to scratch. I'm just . . . . in a new phase I guess. I'm not exactly thrilled about it either, but there's nothing I can do." She smiled. "And there's no way I'll go evil on you . . . unless I find out it WAS you who ruined that Prada top I bought." She arched her eyebrows and stared down at Dawn.   
  


The girl shifted uneasily and grinned. "Nope. Honest. Mom accidentally put it in with the hot laundry."   
  


Buffy rolled her eyes. "And she went into my closet, took it out, and put it INTO the hot wash basket?"   
  


Dawn affected a bored expression. "Whatever. I guess so."   
  


Buffy shook her head and smiled. "Fine. It's almost time to get up anyway. Why don't we go surprise mom by cooking breakfast? And I'll whip up that hot chocolate I promised."   
  


"Fine. Just make sure you actually use hot chocolate mix and not coffee grounds like you did that one time."   
  


"I was nine! And how do you remember that anyway? You were what, two?"   
  


Dawn snorted. "Please. I was like four. And I remember all the stupid things you've done. It's one of my small pleasures in life."   
  


Buffy shot her a dark glance. "SO glad I can provide you with so much entertainment." She hopped up from the bed and yanked a flowery robe off of the foot of her bed, pulling it on over her boxers and tank top. "Let's go, pint-size."   
  


Dawn glared. "Don't call me that. I'm almost taller than you." She arched one eyebrow. "Not that THAT's any great accomplishment, short stuff."   
  


Buffy laughed and led her sister downstairs.   
  
  
  
  
  


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"You realize that I'm completely and utterly against this. I mean, I couldn't be any more against to this if I tried. I am the epitome of against this-ness. You should not be going alone." Buffy perched on the table, watching Giles sorting through a stack of papers and filing them carefully into an ancient bookcase.   
  


The Watcher sighed. "Buffy, I AM aware that you don't approve. But we have little choice. The Council is unlikely to listen to you, and less likely to listen to Wesley and I if we have you with us. Besides, you are needed here . . . and you have your own problems. I'm just going to talk to them. It will be fine. The older, more powerful members of the Council need to be made aware of what the younger sect were planning on doing to you. The **raseri av fortid** may have been false, but the intention to use it was not."   
  


The Slayer's green eyes rolled in her head. "I know all this. Doesn't change the fact that you are walking into the viper's nest armed with a nifty stack of papers and a wagging finger that says 'Bad Englishmen, bad!' Besides, we don't know it was only the younger Council. What if the whole lot of them were in on it? They could send you back in pieces. Or not send you at all."   
  


He shook his head tiredly. "Buffy, I know many of these people. There are many, ah, ambitious men among them, but there are also some good ones. It's not possible that all of them have wandered so far from their purpose. They will be reasonable."   
  


The worry on her face did not ease. "So says you."   
  


He started to say something, the weariness of his face giving way to irritation. The opening of the door distracted him. He glanced up, having momentarily forgotten that they were not the only ones there. "Oh, Xander. Did you ah, manage to get all my suitcases in the trunk?"   
  


The dark haired young man nodded, his eyes flicking alertly between the two people. "Sure thing. Question though. Why are you bringing two empty suitcases to England? Are you planning on flying in baggage? 'Cause if so, gotta warn you, we're gonna need a bigger suitcase." He eyed the tall man, raising his eyebrows and grinning.   
  


Giles snorted. "Hardly. I just thought having some extra packing room might prove useful, should the Council ha- ah, give me any new materials to bring back to Sunnydale."   
  


Xander's eyes widened and his grin stretched across his whole face. "G-Man! Going back to his Ripper days! Planning on swiping books from the Council's library." He punched the older man playfully on the shoulder. "You wild man you."   
  


Giles eyes him distastefully. "It's not stealing I merely intend to-"   
  


"Borrow them and not give them back. In America, that's called stealing."   
  


The Watcher sighed and gave in with ill grace. "Fine. I'm stealing all their books and bringing them home."   
  


"I knew it!" Xander pumped his fist and sang -badly. "Breakin' the law, breakin' the law, break-."   
  


Buffy smiled finally. "Xander. Please stop singing. I have enough nightmares." She turned her attention back to her Watcher as he sidled toward the door and checked his watch again. "You're meeting Wesley at the airport?"   
  


He nodded. "Yes. Our flight leaves tonight at nine."   
  


She hesitated, and finally gave in. "Are you sure you don't want us to drive you?"   
  


His face filled with horror. "Dear Lord no! I mean, no. That would be silly when the Taxi is already here. Thank you for the offer though."   
  


Xander's eyebrows shot upwards. "Expensive cab ride. All to avoid letting us drive your car?"   
  


Giles nodded emphatically. "And worth every penny."   
  


Buffy smiled again. "Shouldn't you say worth every pound? Get back into the spirit of the motherland and all?"   
  


Giles ignored her and finished placing the last of his papers into the briefcase. All three looked up as the taxi's driver laid a hand briefly on the horn. "Bloody impatient beast." He smiled faintly at them. "You'll behave yourselves I take it?" He seemed vaguely uncomfortable with the imminent goodbye.   
  


Buffy smiled and wrapped her arms around him in a rare hug. "Definitely. No slaying before midnight. A limit of three wild parties in your apartment. No orgies without proper supervision."   
  


The Watcher cleared his throat. "Thank you. Ever so reassured now."   
  


Buffy grinned. "Don't mention it." She was silent a moment. "Willow and Tara said to say goodbye. They couldn't get away from that drama class. Willow makes Tara come to every single one, even though Tara's not enrolled, just for moral support."   
  


He nodded. "I know. They wished me luck last night."   
  


Buffy sobered. "Giles . . . be careful. If ANYTHING goes wrong, call me. I'll hire a private jet if I have to, but I'll be there."   
  


Giles smiled. "I'll be fine Buffy. You be careful as well."   
  


Xander had watched the exchange with uncharacteristic silence. Now he stepped forward, a smile on his face. He too gave the older man a fierce hug, surprising but not displeasing Giles. "Watch your back G-man. Those Watcher guys are a slippery bunch."   
  


Giles gave him a final annoyed glance. "I've asked you not to call me that." He smiled then. "But I will. And I'll be back soon."   
  


Buffy and Xander followed him to the doorway and waved as the taxi pulled away, Giles in the back, returning their broad waves with a smile and a nod. Xander turned to Buffy. "Typical British composure. Lets us look like monkeys waving our hands around in the air. He just nods."   
  


Buffy nodded in agreement and turned back into the apartment, picking up the keys Giles had left her on the counter and tossing them between her hands. "Do you need anything from here Xander? I'm gonna head back home and start packing up my stuff to move back to the dorms. I gotta lock up before I go."   
  


He shook his head. "Nah. I think I got enough books and weapons at my apartment." He studied the Slayer for a moment. "You okay Buff?"   
  


She nodded. "I'm fine Xander. Get out of my head."   
  


He raised his hands in surrender. "Hey. I'm not in your head. You just look tired." He was quiet a moment. "Still having dreams?"   
  


She shot him a quick glance than sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Every night now. My own personal trip into a seven hundred year old Slayer's hell."   
  


His voice was quiet. "That can't be pleasant."   
  


She smiled faintly. "I imagine hearing what that perv on Fifth is thinking when the Catholic girls' school track team jogs by isn't any better."   
  


He grimaced. "It's getting easier to block thoughts. Ka-um, I was, ah, told that it would get easier the longer I do it. Like second nature eventually. Wish it would hurry up though. In the meantime I walk around with a constant headache."   
  


She nudged him in the side softly and smiled. "It's okay you know. You can say her name. I won't break down if she's mentioned, or morph into an alternate personality or anything. I'm dealing."   
  


He smiled ruefully. "I know." He was quiet a moment, lost in thoughts- not all of them his own. He gave a frustrated sigh. "Want me to come help you pack?"   
  


She studied him, then nodded. "Sure. Extra hands always welcome."   
  


She locked the door behind them and pushed the keys into her pocked. Together they set out toward her house, walking in companionable silence.   
  


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"Are you sure you packed everything? Toothbrush? What about your cell-phone? And the charger? Oh, and did you bring something formal, in case you go out to dinner or something? Not that you EVER wear anything casual, but formal-er? What about your Traveler's checks and passport and-"   
  


"Cordelia, please. I'm not a child, I CAN pack my own suitcase."   
  


The brunette girl shrugged. "Fine. Just ignore me and go on your merry way to England. Never mind those of us who have to stay behind and choke on LA's smog while you go traveling to exotic locations." She pretended not to notice him attempting to stealthily remove his passport from a drawer and shove it in his carry on bag.   
  


"England is NOT exotic when one is FROM there. And this is hardly a pleasure trip. So DO stop whining. I feel bad enough about going as it is." Wesley sank onto his bed and began ticking things off of his mental packing list.   
  


She glared at him. "Fine. Just make SURE you don't have any fun and I'll be perfectly content." She cast a distasteful glance out the window. "I'll just stew in my humid smog and be happy with my headache inducing visions."   
  


Wesley sighed in defeat. "Cordelia, I'm truly sorry you can't come with me. But it's best if Giles and I confront our former employers alone. Besides-"   
  


"Fine. I'll stay in the hotel room and order room service. Problem solved."   
  


He continued, ignoring her interruption. "Besides. Angel needs you here. You have to run the office and if you should have a vision."   
  


"Hello. Telephone. I can phone it in." Cordelia knew she was fighting a losing battle, but seemed to enjoy fighting it regardless.   
  


"Cordelia. You're needed here." He left no more room for argument, doubting that tactic would stop her. She'd been fighting about this for days.   
  


To his surprise, she gave in. "Alright. When's Angel getting here to drive you to the airport?"   
  


He hid his amazement. "Any minute. Care to come to airport with us?"   
  


She shook her head. "I'll pass. The sight of all those people transporting themselves away from this CITY will send me into a major depressive episode."   
  


He studied her, concern suddenly entering his expression. "Cordelia, you have been working terribly hard lately . . and things haven't been easy for you. Perhaps when I get back you could go away for a few days. Take a little vacation."   
  


She smiled. "Sure Wes. I'll just tell the visions to go away for a few days while I hit the beach."   
  


He smiled back. "You could always phone it in from a beach in Maui."   
  


She laughed at that. "I'll think about it." She reached up and hugged him. "You and Giles be careful. The Council is NOT on our list of most trusted buddies."   
  


He hugged her back. "I will. You be careful here as well. Try to keep the boss from brooding too much." He smiled at her snort of disbelief. "Easier said than done, I know." He turned back to his suitcase when an expression of realization crossed his face. "I'd nearly forgotten. Have you spoken with Xander about his newfound destiny?"   
  


Cordelia nodded absently. "Yeah. He called me a few days ago. This whole mind reading thing has put a serious kink in his life of slack." An expression of anxiety crossed her face. "I can relate. I told him to drive down here and see The Host. Told him where the place was and all. He said he's going to. Do you think that was the right thing to do? I mean, you KNOW he can't sing."   
  


"Cordelia, if he needs guidance than that might be the best thing for him to do. The rest of us can't relate very well to what he's going through-" At her raised eyebrows and black look of annoyance, he amended the statement. "Well no one except for you, as you have eh- supernatural insights as well. Nevertheless, a performance in Caritas might be just the help he needs."   
  


She sighed. "I hope so. He doesn't sound great."   
  


Wesley turned at a knock on the door. "Wes? You ready?"   
  


Wesley stepped forward and pulled the door open. "Yes. Could you give me a hand with these suitcases?"   
  


Angel stood in the doorway. "Umm . . . you have to ask me in first."   
  


The former Watcher blinked. "Of course. Terribly sorry. Do come in Angel."   
  


The tall vampire stepped through the door. He glanced at Cordy and smiled a hello. He turned his attention to the four large suitcases and shot a glance of surprise toward Wesley. "Four suitcases Wes? Over-packing's an art form with you, isn't it?"   
  


Cordelia grinned. "Two of them are empty. He's going to steal books from the Council and bring them back."   
  


Angel's face darkened at that. Wesley hurriedly corrected Cordelia, shooting her a disapproving glare. "Not steal exactly. More like borrow and not return in my lifetime."   
  


Cordelia laughed. "Otherwise known as theft, swiping, robbery-"   
  


"Cordy, that's enough. We'll probably get more use out of them then the Council will. And I doubt Giles will let him get away with stealing books anyway." Angel smiled to show he wasn't angry, although he wasn't happy about Wesley giving the Council yet another reason to dislike him. "Wesley, we'd better go." He turned to go, motioning to Cordelia as he left. "I'll see you back at the hotel after I take Wesley, right?" He raised his eyebrows in question.   
  


She nodded. "Yes. I'll be there. Not going to wear my bells, but I'll be there." She grimaced at their blank expressions. "You know? 'I'll be there with bells on?' It's an expression. I was making a joke." Both men smiled tentatively. She threw her hands up in despair. "Fine. Shoot me for being funny."   
  


Wesley bid Cordelia a final goodbye, refraining from informing her that the joke hadn't been funny, and followed the vampire down to his car, checking his watch again as he did so. He had a good three hours till the flight left, but it was better to be safe than sorry he'd decided. The two sat quietly as the car sped toward the airport. Neither spoke, each lost in thought, until they reached the airport exit. Wesley finally spoke, startling his employer. "You needn't come inside, Angel. You can drop me off, I'm quite capable of finding my own way to the terminal."   
  


Angel gave him a quick, uncertain glance as he navigated the uneven traffic. "Are you sure? I can come in, it's not a problem."   
  


The Watcher shook his head. "No. I'm certain. Parking here is ghastly and they'll overcharge you. Just let me out at the drop-off section."   
  


"Alright." Angel quickly switched lanes, heading for the drop off area instead of the short-term parking he had been aiming for. He pulled up in front of the busy glass doors and put the car in park. Wesley pushed the door open.   
  


"Thank you for the ride. I'll call as soon as we get settled there."   
  


Angel nodded. "No problem. Umm- Wesley. Be careful. The Council isn't made up of all good guys these days."   
  


Wesley sighed. "I'm well aware of that. But thank you for the warning. You be careful as well."   
  


The vampire smiled faintly. "Aren't we always."   
  


Wesley smiled back. "No."   
  


Angel shrugged. "Well, I'll do my best."   
  


Wesley stepped from the car and pulled his bags out of the backseat, quickly heaping them on a spare baggage cart someone had left by the curb. He waved a final farewell to Angel and then walked away into the recesses of the busy airport. Angel watched for a moment, then put the car back into gear with a sigh and sped away with a slight squeal of burning rubber, noting the disapproving glances of some of the passers-by as he did so with a hint of amusement.   
  


He began making his way back to the hotel, deciding to stop for Chinese take-out and a pint of ice cream on the way there. Chinese and Ben & Jerry's always lightened Cordelia's mood, and she was bound to be in a less than wonderful one, since she'd failed to wrangle a trip to England out of Wesley and him. He groped blindly for his cell phone and dialed the number of the hotel. Gunn answered. "Angel Investigations, we eh, do something for the hopeless. Or helpless. Whatever. Can I help you with something?"   
  


"Gunn, it's 'we help the hopeless', I think. Cordelia keeps changing it. What flavor ice cream does she like again? Cherry Garcia?"   
  


Amusement was evident in the other man's voice, even over the static-laced cellular line. "Depends. If she's pissed off, it's probably a Cherry Garcia day. If she's depressed, it might be more Chunky Monkey. If she's sick, I'd go with Wavy Gravy."   
  


Angel frowned. "Better get one of each."   
  


Gunn laughed. "That bad, eh?"   
  


Angel glared at the phone, nearly swerving into the other lane. "No. I just don't want to get the wrong one."   
  


"Whatever boss-man. Wes get off okay at the airport?"   
  


"Yeah. Just dropped him off. I'll be back in about forty-five minutes. Cordy should be there any minute."   
  


"Alright. See you in a bit then." 

"Bye." Angel hung up the phone and tossed it onto the seat, turning his full attention back to the road as he made his way home.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	3. Big City Babies

  
  
  
  
**Part Two:** **Big City Babies** "Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling into at night. I miss you like hell." -- Edna St. Vincent Millay, Letters, 1952   
  
  
  


It wasn't dark enough. Even in the dimmest hours of the night, the streetlights painted the deepest shadowed corners a dim gray. No true darkness, no obscure blackness to slink in. Even to normal eyes, the quickly silenced figure in the back of the alley was readily visible. He knew other people heard her scream. He saw them avert their eyes, blanch, and walk with hurried steps in another direction. People of the night unblessed by the sun, more at home in the dark- like him. But not like him, not like him at all. He wasn't a "people". To them, he was a monster. And he bloody well liked it that way.   
  


Yet it was he who wandered reluctantly, as if pulled by invisible strings to the back of the side-street. The monster, the inhuman creature, the predator, who wondered for the thousandth time what he was doing in this damn city. The people ran the other way, too jaded, or too afraid, to care what happened to one girl in the back of a shadowed alley. But the vampire went to where she was held, a bottle of whiskey hanging loosely in his right hand, his left idly flicking a half-finished cigarette.   
  


She looked up at him with pleading eyes, the vampire at her neck not even looking up from his clumsy feeding. A fledgling, barely out of the grave and stupid with the need to kill. The grimy thing was no less deadly, despite his raging idiocy. He stared into her clear blue eyes, noted her blonde hair and cursed silently as unwanted memories of two Slayers filled his throbbing head. He took a last long swig from the whiskey bottle, then smashed it against the younger vampire's head with a regretful sigh. William the damn Bloody, saving a human bint who was stupid enough to wander around LA alone at night.   
  


The fledgling looked up from his whimpering meal in yellow-eyed vampire countenance, fury battling befuddlement on his dim face. "What the hell, man? I'm eating here!" He reached one hand upwards to rub at his bleeding head, freeing the girl to scream again. The blonde vampire winced as the sound lanced through his already fragile head. 

"Dinner's over. Run along and play now before I have to bother myself and make you leave." He dropped the broken bottle and leaned casually back against the wall, cigarette sticking from the side of his mouth. 

The fledgling stood and bared his fangs. "Find your own meal blondie. The girl's mine." He moved aggressively forward, losing his grip on his victim. The girl scrambled to her feet and cowered back, the alley too narrow for her to have any hope of getting around the two men- or almost-men. Her would-be killer smiled, the expression grotesque with his bared fangs and demonic face. "So, what's your name man? I like to know the people I kill."   
  


Smirking red lips took a long drag on his cigarette, exhaling the smoke in a long slow sigh. "The name's Spike, infant. Maybe you've heard of me?" He flicked the still burning end onto the other vampire's shoe. The fledgling growled and reached for him, no hint of recognition marring the uniform stupidity of his angry expression. "Or maybe not." Spike lashed out with a foot and grabbed with his hands, lifting the other vampire off of his feet before the kick could fell him. He held the shorter vampire up so he was level with Spike's own gaze. He gave him a crooked smile. "Sodding kids these days. No sense of history. Didn't anyone ever teach you to respect your elders?" He flung the now trembling vampire to the ground and pulled a splintery stake from his pocket. He kicked the huddled vampire in the stomach almost casually and his arm flashed downward.   
  


The dark haired fledgling stared up in shocked surprise. "Basta-" The word was cut off as he exploded in a cloud of shifting dust.   
  


He turned to see the human girl had climbed to her feet. She held a trembling hand to her bleeding throat. Her voice shook as she spoke. "Th-thank you. You saved me. That man . . . he EXPLODED. People don't do that! He wasn't . . . his face." She seemed close to fainting. Her hand came away from her throat and she leaned back against the wall for a moment, dizzy and overwhelmed.   
  


Spike's eyes went instantly to the oozing wound. Bright red and beautiful as death, the blood called to him on his most primal level. He suddenly couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten. He was ravenous. He felt his face shift and he smiled. THIS was how it was supposed to be. Blood and death. THIS was what he was created for, what it was his nature to be. He sprang forward, lithe and deadly. Her eyes opened, widened. He put a hand behind her throat and jerked her forward, intentionally ramming her head against the wall as he did so. A surge of triumphant pleasure rushed through him when no stabbing pain assaulted his head. It was really gone. The chip, the bloody tether that had held him at bay, left him weak and defanged, it was gone. Big Bad was back. He laughed and leaned forward, fangs beared.   
  


And met clear blue eyes, staring up at him with betrayed fear. He turned his head and his face tangled in blonde hair. A new pain assaulted him, the pain of frustrated desires and tangled emotions, and of grief and longing. The pain he'd been drowning in whiskey till this stupid girl had begun her howling. He cursed loudly and flung her bodily away from him. She stared up at him, confusion and terror warring on her face. "Go!" He told her, his jaw locked. She stayed where she was, frozen in an overload of fear. He growled and flung the stake he still held at her, knocking her harmlessly in the shoulder but jarring her out of her stupor. His voice was louder, menacing now. "Go!" She ran on shaking legs away from him, her sobs echoing in the alley behind her.   
  


He stood there, trembling. After a moment he followed her, rounding the corner and heading for a group of homeless men, gathered in a silent crowd around a haphazard array of crates and boxes. They watched silently as he approached, his eyes roving, his face still set in its vampire visage. Finally he found what he sought and marched purposefully toward a sleeping old man, whose hands clutched a large half full bottle of cheap whiskey. He snatched it away. The man sat up and shouted in alarm. Spike had already turned to leave, but spun back to look at the wino. The small, gnarled man paled and hurried away, leaving Spike the bottle uncontested.   
  


The vampire walked back into the alley and settled down in the back of it, sipping at a bottle that offered him no comfort. The alley wasn't dark enough. He couldn't hide in blackness and forget himself. But nowhere was dark enough. Not dark enough to allow him to hide away from himself, and from the memories, regrets, and pain that thundered through his still sober mind. His best efforts were failing, as they had since the day he'd left Sunnydale. There wasn't enough liquor in the world to fog his mind or fade his memories. He never stopped thinking. Bleeding bitches. One leaves, no goodbye, no tearful smile for him. Just a relayed message from a drooling nancy-boy. The other cries on his shoulder and then pushes him away and moons over the same prancing, whining pansy. Life was much easier a few years ago.   
  


God he hated missing her. In the grand scheme of things, he'd barely known her. Just a speck of time he'd spent with her. Logically, he should have barely known her, she shouldn't have meant a thing to him. But logic be damned, he missed her. He wanted that last goodbye to be for him, last bloody act of forgiveness be damned. He didn't sleep. Hadn't slept for weeks. Every time he slept he watched a sodding instant replay of himself shoving a stake through her heart and watching her explode into dust. Stupid bint. She shouldn't have made him promise. Life as a vampire, a real vampire, wasn't that bad. In fact, it was bloody marvelous. Or at least it didn't used to be. It used to be an everlasting party with a never-ending supply of fresh appetizers. Now his life was a bleeding funeral procession, only without the funny dead bodies and sniffling mourners.   
  


He hated missing her. But even more, he hated the wanting. This humming, wailing longing that chattered at him constantly. A hole from somewhere he didn't even know he'd possessed, that ached for a silly blonde he could never have. And that damn blue-skinned Oracle bitch. With her cryptic nonsense. Couldn't even answer his bloody question without laughing and saying he already knew the answer. He did not. If he knew, he wouldn't have asked.   
  


"You look pretty bad off son. Care for a friendly ear? I've plenty to spare."   
  


Spike looked up. A Sinrqustr demon stood in front of him, short, squat red body perched on a dangerously frail crate, big pointed ears- all six of them- perked. Red nosy bastards. Always into other people's business. Could hear everything within miles with those ears. Couldn't see worth a piss, but didn't need to with those ears. He'd heard most of them lived in this city now. Something about a demon colony underground. He was NOT thrilled to encounter one right now. "Sod off."   
  


The demon raised a black clawed hand, deep set piggy eyes blinking innocently. "Fine! Don't take it out on me pal. I just thought you looked like you could use a friend."   
  


Spike glared. "I could use another bottle. If you bring me that, I'll tell you anything you want. I'll swear to God above that you're the frigging King of the World."   
  


The demon chuckled, an odd rasping sound coming from his strangely shaped nearly octagonal mouth. "Sorry. Don't drink."   
  


"Then take your red-skinned carcass somewhere else, and leave a fellow to his peaceful misery."   
  


"Fine. Forget I was here." Spike mumbled something obscene beneath his breath and took a last swig from the now empty bottle. The demon hesitated. "You know, if you're looking for another drink, there's a bar downtown you might want to check out. Here, I have a card somewhere . . ." 

The demon dug through folds of skin and handed Spike a wrinkled card, whose former location Spike did not want to be any clearer about. "No. Now go away before I make good use of the laws of gravity and throw you out of here."   
  


The demon raised his hands in a show of nonchalance. "Listen, just go. There's a demon there, he runs the place. Calls himself The Host. You might be surprised, guy helps all kinds of demons. Helps them sort out their problems . . . no matter which side they're batting for, if you get my drift."   
  


Spike eyed the demon suspiciously. "What do you get if I go there?"   
  


The demon smiled his odd stretched smile. "Own some stock in the place. My brother helped him start it up." Spike snorted in annoyance at that. The demon gestured toward the card again. "You really should go, though. You won't regret it. If nothing else they have a fully stocked bar."   
  


Spike eyed the demon for a long moment. "What's your name?"   
  


A red-skinned forehead creased suspiciously. "Martin. Why?"   
  


"I'm gonna go check your little bar out. Give it a nice look-see. But if I find out I'm walking into something I don't like, I WILL be back. And I'll make sure they put the right name on tombstone where they bury the parts of you they can find when I'm done with you."   
  


Martin winced. "Try to do a guy a favor, and he goes all Hannibal Lector on you. Fine. I get your point. Nothing there but demons, alcohol, the occasional human, and a Karaoke stage. No worries."   
  


Spike opened his mouth to say something then his eyes widened and his expression filled with unfeigned horror. "Karaoke?!"   
  
  
  


******************************************************************************   
  
  
  


She fiddled uncomfortably with the seatbelt, which she had somehow managed to twist inside the buckle. Her watched her with one eye- the other on the road- his body slinking away reflexively from the pitch-black tinted windows that allowed no light to pass through. Still he tried to stuff himself into the center of his seat, years of habit making him unable to relax back into the seat. Finally he broke the silence. "Cordelia, everything is fine. Relax."   
  


She turned to stare at him, her brown eyes wide and filled with a mix of resentment and worry. "Fine? Everything is fine? How can you SAY that? Wesley and Giles have been gone TWO WEEKS. Two whole weeks. For one of those weeks, we haven't heard a WORD from the man who swore he'd call everyday. On top of that, we're driving to collect a raving psychopath from jail, or rather I'M going to collect her, because of your allergy to daylight. Nothing is fine Angel. If everything was fine, Wesley would have called last night and come flying home with his stolen books today, and Faith would be sitting on her hands in jail. This is not a state of fine-ness."   
  


He sighed. "Cordy, it's not Faith's fault she's being released. She had nothing to do with it. Wolfram & Hart arranged it all. I don't know why, but I know she needs us."   
  


"Until she goes all Billy Loomis on you and kills us all with a tiny knife and a phone." The look he gave her was utterly blank. "Never mind. Suffice it to say that homicidal superwomen, with a history of kicking my ass for the hell, of it make me nervous."   
  


"She's different. You haven't been visiting her, talking to her these last few months. She's not the same girl you knew. She's-"   
  


"Fine. She's rehabilitated and ready to go out and turn the other cheek and apologize for all her nasty ways. You believe what you want. I'm not turning my back on her till I have to color my hair to hide the gray." He sighed again, not bothering to reply. After a moment she spoke again, her voice more subdued. "Angel, what are we going to do if we don't hear from Wesley soon?"   
  


He smiled at her. "If we don't hear from him this week, we'll take a nighttime flight to England and find him ourselves."   
  


She smiled back. "First class?"   
  


He rolled his eyes. "Would you fly any other way?"   
  


She considered for a moment. "Probably not. Unless I was the one paying." She was quiet a moment as Angel exited the highway and began driving the short, curving distance to the prison. "Angel, what are you going to DO with her once she's out?"   
  


His hands tightened on the wheel. "Cordelia . . . she's not a THING. I'm not going to DO anything with her. In the long term, I'm going to offer her a job and a place to stay. There's enough room that we can live on opposite ends of the place and never even see each other. In the short term, I'm taking her to Carita's."   
  


Her nose wrinkled. "Eww. Why? Something tells me she's not Sarah Brightman when it comes to the singing. And I doubt the Host will like getting a glimpse into HER psyche."   
  


He didn't bother to address her disparaging comments. "Because he might be able to help her sort some things out." She made a snorting sound and he smiled briefly. Angel's smile faded as he pulled the car into the prison parking garage. He glanced at Cordy. "You okay with this?"   
  


She nodded woodenly. "No. But I'll go get her anyway." She pulled the door handle open, but paused before she swung it wide. "Do you think Kate will be here?"   
  


"I don't know. She knows Faith's getting out though. Came by to yell at me a few days ago, thought I had something to do with it."   
  


She smiled faintly. "Gosh Angel, I don't think she likes you much anymore. Did you eat someone she was fond of?" His eyes darkened and his scowl deepened. Cordelia opened the door and hopped out. "Geez, sorry. Sensitive much? I'll be back with everyone's favorite violent sociopath in a little bit." She hurried away, leaving him alone to stew in silence.   
  
  
  


******************************************************************************   
  


Her clothes felt odd. She'd been in prison uniform for so long now, the leather pants felt baggy and the midriff baring shirt tight and revealing. The leather jacket she held closed over the shirt had never been her own, it had been lifted from someone else. She was utterly alone in the interrogation room, wondering if eyes were watching her from the other side of the two way mirror. She wasn't used to being alone. In prison, there were always people around you. Waiting, watching, taking your measure; they were always there. Waiting here in this tiny room for someone to let her walk out, a free woman, Faith wanted nothing more than to march back into her prison cell and fall asleep. She wasn't ready for this. She wondered if that was why Wolfram & Hart wanted to let her out. Because they thought she'd crack.   
  


The same lawyer who'd once tried to recruit her to kill Angel had come to have her sign papers and inform her of her impending release. She'd been smug and brisk, her confidence only cracking once, when Faith had tested the limits of the cuffs that held her bolted to her chair and sprung forward, snatching the papers from the prim lawyer's grasp. She'd seen the fear in the other woman's eyes. The realization that if Faith chose to, she could kill her with her bare hands, and could do it before the guard even had time to drawn his gun. Faith had enjoyed that fear . . . . and that enjoyment had thrown her for a loop.   
  


She knew she wasn't ready for this. But, she also knew that her wishes didn't make a difference, she had to go. It's not like she could just move back in, walking papers be damned. She sighed and stood, wandering over to gaze into the mirror. She grimaced distastefully at her own reflection. Pale face and ill kept hair, no makeup.   
  


The creaking of the opening door startled her and she whirled around, instantly on the defensive. A guard stood in the doorway, his face nervous. "Someone's here to take you now. You're free to go." He held the door, stepping far enough back to allow her to pass. She hesitated and turned back to the mirror, wondering again who was watching. After a moment, she forced a wicked smile and raised one hand in a wave, slowly flattening her fingers until the middle one stood up in a farewell salute.   
  


The guard bit back a smile as she passed by him, his eyes going to the mirror, confirming her suspicions of an unseen observer. She smiled at him and his nervousness eased a bit. He led her to the front of the prison. Faith halted when she saw who waited for her, brunette hair cut into a shorter, glossy bob, looking like a walking fashion magazine ad. She hesitated and then stepped forward. "Hi Cordelia."   
  


Cordelia smiled faintly, the expression not extending to her eyes. "Hi Faith. You ready to go? Everything signed? Got all your stuff?"   
  


Faith nodded. "Yeah. Five by five. Where's Angel?"   
  


Wincing at the familiar expression. "In the car. You know. Daytime and flame and all."   
  


Faith nodded. Cordelia hesitated, then turned and made her way to the car, Faith at her side. She followed the other girl toward the parking garage, ignoring the eyes the stared from every direction, most of them resentful and hostile. Finally they were in the garage, and away from the assessing gazes. Cordelia stopped at a sleek black convertible, its top firmly up. Faith hung back a moment, smiling a bit. A black convertible. It figured. Cordelia opened the door and pushed the front seat up, standing there. Faith's smile widened. Obviously, she was being put in the back seat. 

She stepped forward, intercepting the barbed glance Angel was giving Cordelia for her uncharitable seating arrangement. She slid into the back seat, her hands instantly twining together, fingers twisting nervously. She looked up and met the vampire's concerned, sympathetic gaze. She forced a smile. "Nice car Angel. I had you figured for a Volkswagen, but this isn't bad." She shot Cordelia a quick grin. "Not a lot of leg room back here, but better than hoofing it." Cordelia ignored her.   
  


Angel smiled slightly. "Welcome to the outside world Faith."   
  


Her smile faded. "Thanks. . . . where are we going?"   
  


He shifted the car into gear. "Back to the office. I got you some clothes . . . Cordelia picked them out, since you told me your size last time I visited you. Then we're going to see a friend of mine."   
  


Her expression turned wary. "What friend?"   
  


Cordelia smiled smugly. "You'll love him. He's big and green and talks too much. How are the vocal cords feeling?"   
  


Faith frowned. "Green? Vocal cords?"   
  


"Cordelia." Angel sent her a warning look, which she blithely ignored, pulling down the visor and checking her lipstick in the makeup mirror. Something she knew annoyed Angel when he was driving. He glanced at Faith in the rearview mirror. "He owns a club downtown. It's for . . . . unique people?" He noted her raised eyebrows and gave in with a sigh. "Demons. Vampires . . . everything. He can read people's auras. He's helped a lot of people . . . and unpeople. I think you'd like him, and that he might be able to help clear some things up for you."   
  


Her face was openly skeptical. "How does he 'read auras'." Angel mumbled something beneath his breath and her skepticism turned to outright dismay as she caught the tail end of his sentence. "Karaoke!?"   
  
  
  


______________________________________________________________________________   
  
  
  


"Tell me again why we're driving five hours to LA?"   
  


"I'M driving to LA to sing Karaoke, drink myself stupid, and hit on women who have no interest in me. You're not driving. You are sitting next to the driver. And you're doing THAT because you didn't want to stay home and take Dawn to that 'N Synch concert."   
  


Buffy considered a moment. "Oh yeah. It's all coming back to me now." She settled more deeply into her seat, watching as Xander smoothly shifted gears. "Now lie to me and tell me Giles said you could take his car."   
  


Xander grinned. "Oh yeah. I have his blessing. He gave me my own set of keys, told me to use it anytime, drive to Alaska if I felt like it."   
  


She snorted. "Sure." She watched for a moment. "So can I drive?"   
  


He made a gurgling sound of dismay. "You? Drive? Sorry Buff. I value my life nearly as much as Giles values this car. And BOTH would be in serious danger if I let you do anything more vital than adjust the radio."   
  


Buffy pouted. "I'm not that bad." He rolled his eyes toward her, one eyebrow arched. "Okay, so maybe I am." She leaned forward and fiddled with the radio a moment. After a minute filled with quickly switched off boy-bands and girl-groups, and one absurdly loud Latin singer, she turned the volume all the way off, settling back in her seat. "So what else did Cordelia say, other than tell you to come here and meet this Host guy? And what kind of a name is that anyway? The Host. His name's probably like Larry or something, but he doesn't want to admit it."   
  


He shrugged, shifting in his seat as the car sped down the highway. "I don't know. She just said he's a demon. But not a bad one. Said he's helped Angel out a lot."   
  


"What about Drusilla and Darla? Are they still in LA? Is Angel hunting them?"   
  


He sighed tiredly. "Buff, I don't know. Cordelia didn't say anything about them. But she was worrying about them some, so I guess so."   
  


She frowned. "If she didn't say anything how did you . . . you can read thoughts over the phone?"   
  


He nodded. "Yup. Yet another new ability that's made itself known over the last few weeks. Just call me She-Ra, Princess of Power." He paused, considering. "On second thought, don't call me that. Anyway, I discovered it while ordering take-out from Mr. Wong's Chinese heaven." He grimaced. "By the way, NEVER eat there. They are NOT sanitary."   
  


Her nose wrinkled. "Ewww. But . . . that's pretty weird Xander. Cordelia's five hours away and you could tune in on her like a local station. I'm not an expert, but that doesn't sound like standard mind-reader fare to me."   
  


He smiled. "Who can say? You're one to talk. The vampire Vampire Slayer. That's a Joe-normal kind of situation, right?"   
  


She started to take offense, visibly bridling at his words, then stopped and let out a long sigh. "Point taken." She ran her tongue over her lips, rubbing them together to check if her lipstick was still there. Feeling none, she automatically yanked the makeup mirror down to check. The blank mirror stared back at her. She shoved it back up with a grunt of frustration. "How come Will didn't want to come with us?"   
  


"She and Tara had already planned that week in San Diego, hunting through old book stores and funny smelling magic stores, remember? In celebration of Willow surviving Drama class. I told her not to bother rescheduling. If this guy is good, we can always go back sometime and bring them with us."   
  


Buffy grinned. "But Willow still has a month and a half of drama to go. Not to mention a performance of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream,' starring Willow Rosenburg as Helena."   
  


He laughed. "Tara said the celebration was the first of many . . . and that Willow would need every single one to make it through." He grinned evilly. "You know, Willow doesn't want us to go to that play."   
  


Buffy mimed surprise. "Really? I wish I had known! I already reserved tickets."   
  


"Me too."   
  


"To all three performances."   
  


"Same here."   
  


"She's going to kill us."   
  


"Painfully."   
  


Buffy laughed. "So do you know where you're going?"   
  


Xander nodded. "We should get to the nightclub around five. I figured we can call Cordelia and swing by and see her and Angel, if they're still at the hotel. I want to meet that Gunn guy too. Cordy talks about him a lot."   
  


Buffy shot him a quick questioning glance. "Jealous."   
  


He made a face. "No!" She smiled and waited. "Maybe a little. I mean, the guy's named Gunn. Doesn't make it fair to the rest of us who have to battle through life without cool, violent names."   
  


"I have no sympathy. I, the one chosen girl in the whole world, have to fight my way through life with the name Buffy."   
  


Xander laughed. "Point taken."   
  


Buffy reached down and pulled on the seat lever, lowering the back of her seat to a reclining position. "Okay, that's it. Nap time for Buffy. Wake me up when we get there."   
  


"Sure thing."   
  


She smiled. "Know what song your going to sing?"   
  


He groaned and flung his wrinkled copy of the directions at her. She giggled and pushed the paper back onto the dashboard, settling back and closing her eyes as the car sped toward LA. He glanced at her after a moment. "It might do you some good to sing too, you know."   
  


She didn't bother to open her eyes. "Yeah, but it wouldn't do anyone ELSE there any good. "   
  


"I'm serious Buff. You've got some . . . . choices coming up, God knows when. And no matter what you try to tell me, I KNOW you're not sure what to do. Maybe this Host guy does know."   
  


A long moment passed, he glanced quickly at her, saw her open eyes fixed on the floor. When she finally spoke, her voice was somber. "I'll think about it Xander."   
  


He left it at that. Her eyes shut again and in a few minutes she fell into the deeper breathing of sleep. He reached forward and switched the radio on, leaving the volume barely loud enough to be heard.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	4. What Are The Odds?

  
  
**Part Three:** **What Are The Odds?** "Allow myself to introduce... myself." -- Austin Powers, International Man of Mystery   
  
  
  


"No. There is no way in Hell I'm going up there and crooning some old lounge lizard's song for the slobbering masses to laugh at. Not a chance."   
  


Angel rubbed faintly at his temples. "Faith, that's the only way he can read you. Everyone has to do it. No one will laugh."   
  


Cordelia returned to the tables, Gunn trailing her. She held two sodas and a glass of blood in her hands. Gunn bringing up the rear with a bottle of water. She heard the tail end of the conversation and slid into her seat, distributing the drinks as she did so. "Don't worry. You can't POSSIBLY be worse than Angel. It's like listening to a chorus of frogs being run through the lawnmower." Faith laughed and Angel scowled. Cordelia turned to Gunn with a grin. "She thinks I'm kidding. Just wait."   
  


"What do you mean 'just wait?'" Angel looked highly suspicious.   
  


Cordelia feigned surprise. "Seems natural to me. If you want Faith to sing, shouldn't you have to go first?"   
  


"I HAVE gone first. More than once. She just wasn't here."   
  


His argument fell on deaf ears as Faith took up the new cause with zest. "Yeah big guy. You want me up there, you better go strut your stuff first. Otherwise my ass is remaining firmly planted in this chair." She settled back, looking smug.   
  


Angel studied her for a moment. The new clothes, long shower, and access to makeup had done her a world of good. The sallow look her skin had held was already beginning to fade. Personally, he thought she wore too much makeup, but he kept that opinion to himself. She seemed to like it the way it was. Her leather jacket had been left behind, traded in for a simple black sweater and a pair of regular jeans. It was, he thought, the first time he'd seen her without a single piece of leather, not counting the prison uniform, of course. He gave in with a sigh. "Fine. I'll sing too. Cordy, Gunn? You guys want to step up here too? Take one for the team?"   
  


They snorted in unison. "You've got to be kidding brother." Gunn had been sneaking looks at Faith all night, his glances both admiring and wary. Angel wondered what exactly Cordelia and Wesley had told him about the Slayer. Judging from those telling glances, it must not have been glowing reports. Not that he blamed them.   
  


"I see new faces!" Everyone at the table turned their heads, Angel and Gunn nodding in greeting, Cordelia grinning. Faith just stared, projecting a vaguely menacing aura that seemed more defensive and instinctive than anything. The Host ignored it, smiling widely and offering his hand. Faith took it with great reluctance. "Or a new face at least. Oh you ARE interesting. I almost hope you do sing . . . even if it means a repeat performance from the Lord of Darkness over there." Angel scowled and Faith's tense face broke into a smile. The Host took that as a sign, grabbing a spare chair from a nearby table and yanking it close to the table. "So, what's your name, where you from? What genie did you wish on to get that fabulous face?"   
  


Faith's smile widened. "Aren't you supposed to know all of this?"   
  


The demon shook his head, wagging a finger at her. "Nu-uh. Not until I hear that sexy voice serenading me in song." He waved a hand in Angel's face. "Well? What do you need an engraved invitation? Where are your manners, didn't your Mother teach you anything before you ate her? Introduce me to your new friend."   
  


Angel's scowl deepened, but he refrained from commenting. "Faith, this is the Host. Host, this is Faith."   
  


The demon rolled his eyes. "A graceless introduction. Better than nothing though." He turned to Gunn and Cordelia. "Speaking of lack of manners, where have mine gone? Hello to our lovely Seer and vampire hunter as well." He eyed the drinks on the table. "You lot really do party down don't you? Not big on the drinking, huh? Can't say I blame you with THIS bartender. Man couldn't mix a decent drink if his life depended on it." He sighed. "But what am I going to do? He's one of our co-owner's sons."   
  


Faith smiled, her formerly tense body now relaxed, her hand cupping her soda. "What kind of a name is The Host anyway?"   
  


He shrugged. "My people used to believe that to have a name would grant others power over you when they used it. So none of us ever had a name. We all know it's pretty much nonsense, but old habits die hard. 'Host' serves well enough."   
  


She shrugged as well. "If you say so. How 'bout I call you Scales?"   
  


He grimaced. "I'd rather you didn't."   
  


She laughed. "Host it is then."   
  


The demon glanced up at the stage. "Oh God help me, it's that four legged demon with a voice like nails on a blackboard again." He sighed. "Excuse me folks." He gestured toward Faith and Angel. "Why don't you two go take a look-see through the song book, pick out what you'd like to sing for us tonight?" He shot Faith a mock stern look. "I won't take no for an answer." She smiled and rose obediently and walked over to the podium where the book was, Angel slouching less readily behind her. Cordelia and Gunn sat at the table, talking in hushed voices and waiting with expectant, and somewhat malicious smiles, for the performance to come.   
  


Suddenly Cordelia's cell phone rang shrilly, earning her glares from the performer on stage. She answered it quickly. "Hello? What? Oh! Hi! Hold on a sec." She got up, hurrying away from the table to somewhere quieter. Angel gave her a suspicious look before Faith yanked him forward toward the book of song choices. Her heard her voice faintly as she hurried away. "What? No! We're at Caritas!"   
  


Faith flipped through the book idly, Angel hovering over her shoulder looking thoroughly miserable. "I don't know any of these. Any chance of me hopping on stage for a stirring a capella version of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb?'"   
  


"Somehow I doubt that will make our friendly Host very happy." He reached past her and flipped through. "How about some Beatles songs? Everyone knows those."   
  


"Everyone but me. Not a big Beetle fan. Not really a big proponent of any insect, come to think of it."   
  


"Ha ha. What DO you listen to?"   
  


"Stuff that's not in this book. Really was never a big music lover. Never had time to listen. It was just the background for my life most of the time. I never took much notice of the soundtrack I was kicking ass to." She flipped through the M artists. "I know some of these, but I won't admit it in public."   
  


He read over her shoulder, a slow grin marking his face. "Madonna? You were into Madonna?"   
  


She refused to meet his gaze, a slight flush tinting her face. "I was ten, okay? What were you into when you were ten? Irish drinking songs?"   
  


He shrugged. "Can't remember."   
  


She turned pages rapidly and randomly, obviously frustrated. "Yup. It's a Mary's Lamb night. Unless you think this is more of a Humpty Dumpty crowd?" She paused on a page finally. "Hey! I know this song! There we go. Song chosen. You go first though. Rock and Roll. Well, roll anyway. Something tells me we're not going to manage the rock part. We might have them rolling in the aisles though." She grinned. "Or you might." She stepped back so he could get a better look at the book. "So what's your poison? More Manilow? 'Cause, gotta tell you, the Manilow crooning is taking cool points away from the car."   
  


He grunted in response. "So what did you pick?" She pointed to the song and he turned to her with raised eyebrows. "Are you TRYING to cause trouble?"   
  


She shrugged. "Hey. It's the only song I know. A guy I went out with used to sing it to me. For the three days we went out."   
  


He sighed in defeat. "There's NOTHING else in that book you know?"   
  


"Not well enough to sing it. Or attempt to sing it."   
  


"Fine. I'll have a hose ready."   
  


She grinned. "Awww, Angel, you big Teddy Bear. Is that your way of telling me you think I'm sexy?" He didn't bother to answer that, to her vast amusement. "Come on. I'm getting edgy just waiting. Pick a song and go embarrass yourself, so I don't have to."   
  


He glared. "Go tell The Host what you want to do then go away. I have to prepare."   
  


She laughed. "Yes Mr. Miyagi."   
  


Angel watched her walk away, noting the smile on her face. It wasn't going to be easy for her out in the world again. But for tonight at least, she seemed to be managing to have fun. At his expense, but fun nonetheless. He was glad of that. She sank into her chair beside Cordelia, who had been wearing a familiar crafty expression ever since she returned the table from her phone call. He didn't know what she was up to, but he was worried about it. He sighed and flipped through the book morosely. The Host walked up beside him. Angel didn't acknowledge him. The demon sighed. "Having trouble choosing a dirge?"   
  


Angel glanced up. "I was thinking something more upbeat than that."   
  


"Does it really matter which you pick? We all know the end result."   
  


Angel frowned. "Aren't you supposed to be nice and compliment the customers?"   
  


The Host waved a hand casually. "Not you. You're way past guest and edging toward 'resident tone-deaf vampire.'" He ignored Angel's grunted response. "Though you're no longer our only frequent vampire visitor. We've a newcomer. Finally did something other than drink last night. Gave a surprisingly good version of "Send in the Clowns", considering his less than sober state. You might even know him. Odd that he chose that song . . . didn't you sing it once?" Angel looked up in surprise, wariness suddenly in his gaze. The Host glanced at the book innocently. "Might I suggest something . . . . short?"   
  


Angel glared. "Who is he?"   
  


The demon smiled. "That would be telling secrets wouldn't it. I'm like a shrink Angel, can't read and tell."   
  


"Since when?"   
  


The smile widened. "Since now. You'll find out soon enough. He comes in right about now anyway. Now pick a song. I DO have other people who want to assault my ears tonight." Angel gave in with a sigh and pointed to his song. "Ohh . . . interesting choice. Get up there Big Boy." Angel climbed onto the stage behind the demon. The Host stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, and the interesting purple fellow in the corner who represents both genders, we have a treat tonight. A returning performer who seems to be wasted again in _Margaritaville_. Let's hear it for Angel." He stepped down to a tremor of half-hearted applause, most of which came from Faith and Cordelia, who each let loose with loud catcalls. Faith wolf-whistling, Gunn shaking his head and laughing at both of them.   
  


Angel gave them a half a smile as he stepped to the microphone, one hand nervously rubbing the back of his neck. The music started and he began, closing his eyes to avoid the winces around the room.   
  


_"Nibblin' on spongecake, watchin' the sun bake_

_All those tourists covered with oil._

_Strummin' my twelve string, on my front porch swing. _

_The smell of the shrimp beginning to boil. . ."_   
  


Faith stared in open-mouthed awe. "Oh man. I had envisioned this as being bad-funny. But now it's almost bad-sad. Jimmy Buffet?" She shook her head in amazement.   
  


Cordelia's grin was ear to ear. "You should have heard him with 'Mandy.' He was much more into it. People got up and waited outside until he was done."   
  


A laugh exploded, despite her best efforts to quell it. "You're kidding right?"   
  


Cordelia shook her head. "No. The Host told me, when Angel wasn't around, that he was thinking of offering earplugs next time Angel sang."   
  


"Oh man." Faith laughed again. "Well . . . . this really takes the pressure off of me. I mean, I couldn't possibly be any worse. There's only up to go from here."   
  


Gunn grinned. "Unless you work really work at it, I don't see you topping Angel. Or bottoming him. Whichever." He smiled as Angel finished his song and stepped off the stage to a rush of applause . .. most of which seemed to be clapping in excitement that the song was OVER. "Your turn girl. Good luck."   
  


Faith eyed him a moment, then gave him a brilliant smile, ignoring Cordy's narrowed gaze. "Thanks." She walked up to the stage and stepped up behind the Host, who had once again claimed to the microphone.   
  


The demon cleared his throat. "Well that certainly was umm, was, eh, had a great deal of heart behind it. Now I'm going to go have a little chat with Angel, and this little beauty is going to set us all on fire. Let's hear it for Faith." Again came the lackluster applause, unaided this time by the girls' loud yells. The Host narrowed his eyes. "Come on, we can do better than that. She's a first-timer, let's make her feel welcome." A slightly warmer rush of applause followed and the demon walked away, leaving Faith with the microphone. She cleared her throat self-consciously, her eyes scanning the audience. A new figure entered the room to the right of the stage. She couldn't see him well, but the banging of the door behind him caught her attention. After a moment she lost interest and glanced away, giving Cordelia and Gunn a quick smile.   
  


The Host stepped offstage to stand with Angel. Faith stood nervously at the microphone, waiting for the music to start. The Host smiled at Angel. "You realize she's going to cause a riot with this song?"   
  


"Huh? No. She says she can't sing, so it shouldn't be a problem."   
  


The demon snorted. "If you believe that I have some swampland in Florida to sell you."   
  


Angel shrugged. "I'm just telling you what she told me."   
  


The Host grinned. "$20 dollars says she leaves Bruce in the dust with this one."   
  


"Considering the source, it would be pretty stupid for me to take that bet."   
  


He grinned. "Probably."   
  


Faith fidgeted as the music finally started, taking deep breaths. She hadn't sung in front of people in years. Not since before she quit high school. She steeled herself and began.   
  


_"Hey little girl is your daddy home_

_Did he go away and leave you all alone?_

_I got a bad desire._

_Whooooaaaaa, I'm on fire. . ."_   
  


Angel groaned, glancing around the room. "2000 songs in the book, and she had to pick the one that has everything male in this room planning a way to make a pass at her. Or kidnap her. Or eat her, depending on their taste."   
  


The Host sipped his drink delicately. "And some that aren't male." He nodded toward a large, rather vulpine looking woman in the rear of the room.   
  


Angel grimaced. "Wonderful." He glanced at the Host. "So what do you see?"   
  


The demon shrugged. "Not really for me to tell you, unless she asks me to now is it? I can tell you what I saw for you though."   
  


"Fine. What did you see?"   
  


"You'd better buckle your seatbelt baby. It's going to be a bumpy ride."   
  


Angel scowled. "What are you talking about?"   
  


"Someone's planning something awfully nasty for you. Not just you either, this whole crowd of people tangled around you. Something's blocking it, making you incredibly hard to read. I'm not sure, I think it's too many possibilities, clouding my vision. But something Wicked This Way Comes, I see that clearly enough. You better make sure you're secure with who- and what- you are. And don't take anything for granted. Most people's past comes and bites them in the rear now and again. Yours seems to keep coming up and bitch-slapping you." The Host stopped and watched Faith for a moment as she finished the last verse, her eyes shut, her husky speaking voice translating remarkably well into the sensual song. "Can you bring her back again, please?"   
  


Angel ignored the last remark. "Can't you tell me anything more specific? You're not giving me much to go on here."   
  


He shook his head. "Sorry friend. All I can tell you is to watch your back, and be prepared to face some things you've spent a lot of time dancing around. And don't assume anything. Trusted friend, loathed enemies, someone's not what they seem. Someone's going to do the unexpected, and it's going to land you flat on your backside, wondering what happened."   
  


The vampire rubbed his neck tiredly. "As usual, you're incredibly helpful, if being obtuse and unhelpful can be considered helping."   
  


The demon smiled. "Thank you." He started forward than paused. "Angel . . . someone made you a promise, and they came through. There's a reward already out there that you know nothing about. It's a biggie. May cause more trouble than it's worth though. Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, he stepped onto the stage as Faith finished and backed away from the microphone, leaving a frustrated Angel staring after him. A wave of heated applause sounded. Angel cast a quick glance toward Cordelia, who was frowning and clapping with an utter lack of emotion, and Gunn, who was practically beating his hands to death with over enthusiastic applause. The Host followed Angel's gaze and smiled faintly. He stepped up to the vacant microphone, clapping heartily. "Someone get me some ice, it's suddenly HOT in here. Faith honey, you come back soon." He smiled at her and she smiled back with a hint of her usual bravado. He motioned her off stage as a tall furry demon, who reminded Angel faintly of Chewbacca stepped onto the stage. "Me and Faith are going to have a little heart to heart while Bozca here gives us all a little soul, courtesy of Ms. Aretha Franklin. He stepped offstage and walked to where Faith stood next to Angel, trying to ignore the attentive stares of many of the bar's patrons. Bozca launched into her song in a surprising high soprano. The Host smiled at Faith. "We don't get singers as good as you in here very often. You've had some vocal coaching I'm guessing."   
  


She shifted self-consciously. "A little. When I was young. Until Mom lost her first job."   
  


Angel glanced at her in surprise, quickly hiding the expression and turning to the Host. "So what did you see?" He let the demon know with a look that he wasn't finished with him, and he WOULD be telling Angel what that last cryptic little statement had meant.   
  


The demon frowned and addressed Faith. "You don't have to have him here. We can talk alone if you want."   
  


Faith shook her head slowly. "No . . . it's okay. Angel's the one who brought me here, he's putting me up and giving me somewhere to be now that I'm out of jail. He might as well hear it all . . . whatever it is.   
  


He sighed. "Fine. Let's sit down. Bozca's a regular, doesn't want a reading. Just likes to sing." He led them to a table in the corner. When they were all sitting, he leaned forward. "You've got some serious Karma to atone for darling. You haven't had it easy, but it's not all uphill from here. Nothing's certain, your debt is still unpaid. You're getting a second chance, and like our brooding friend here, what happens next depends on what you do with it. But nothing you do is going to change what's already happened."   
  


Faith slumped back into her chair. "So there's not chance? I'm just doomed? Already stamped and graded as hopeless? Maybe I should just sign up with the legions of hell, at least they'll give me dental."   
  


The Host frowned. "I didn't say that. I said that what's done can't be undone, which you already know. You were born for a purpose, and when you strayed from that purpose, you disturbed the way things were meant to be. You're a Slayer. And not the only one. There are things going on right now that need more than one slayer, which is why you're here. Because you didn't march where they wanted you to, things changed. Past Slayers walked where they hadn't necessarily been fated to, and the current Slayer had to be made more powerful." He sat back, glancing at the stage as Bozca finished her song. "What you have to do is decide what you really want. Atonement is a hard, long path. No matter how hard you fight, no matter how much good you do, part of you is always going to feel like it wasn't enough. There is no great reward for choosing that path. Slayers die. And so will you."   
  


"I'm not going to lie to you. There's something primal in you, something hard to control. It's in all Slayers, but you were born now, when great power is needed. With that greater power comes more temptation to misuse it. Right now, you're not sure what you want. You're not sure if you want to fight . . . or just give up and lay down your sword and wait for someone to end your turn on this earth. If you don't decide, make that choice and stick with it. If you don't be definite and sure, than you'll fail. There are . . forces out there that will offer you the world if you help them. And that part of you, that dark center that you failed to fight against last time, will want you to give in."   
  


He sighed and stood up. "The long and short of it is that you could go either way. You could be a great help to the side of 'good' like Angel. Like his little blonde Slayer he thinks I don't know much about. You could be a warrior and a stone in the wall that stands against the battering ram of evil. Or you could be another soldier for the dark. Like you said, they do have better benefits, maybe even a longer life span. The past is already over and done with. The future is up to you. How hard are you willing to fight to make up for what you've done?" He smiled and walked back toward the stage, where a tall human man waited impatiently for him.   
  


Faith stared at the table, her dark eyes tearing slightly. "Well . . . he told me a big fat lot of what I already knew."   
  


Angel nodded, pretending to look away as she wiped the tears from her eyes. "He's right though. You do know that?"   
  


She nodded. "I know." She watched the man on stage for a moment as he began some vaguely familiar ballad. "Angel . . . I don't want to go back to being what I was. But what if I try to walk the straight and narrow, play the good girl, the white knight. What if I do all that, and I fail?"   
  


He shrugged. "Then you fail." She glared at him for his blase answer. He shook his head and raised his hands helplessly. 'No. I mean it. You have to risk failure no matter what you do. If you try to do what's right, and fail- wind up back on the other side of the game where you were before- at least you tried. And you won't fail. You may die. But you won't fail. Not if you make up your mind and stick to it."   
  


She shook her head. "You don't understand. There's this part of me . . . this part that just screams at me sometimes. It wants me to kill, to hunt, to attack."   
  


He smiled. "Of course I understand. I'm one of the few people who will understand. You'll make it Faith. You can control it. You just have to want to."   
  


She gave him a watery smile. "I guess you're right. Can't say I'm looking forward to the long list of apologies I have to work my way down though." Angel put a friendly hand on her shoulder and squeezed briefly. She smiled at him. "Forgive me for not commenting earlier, I was a little distracted . . . but _Margaritaville_?"   
  


He grunted. "Be quiet." She laughed and followed him as he rose and walked over to the table where Cordelia and Gunn waited.   
  


Faith paused before sinking into a chair beside Cordelia, ignoring Gunn's enthusiastic praise of her performance, a familiar sense tingling her head. She turned slowly, her eyes scanning the room. Finally settling on a tall, newly entered blonde figure who stood flipping through the song book with one hand, the other holding a dangling cigarette. She studied him for a long moment, bothered by a tingling sense of familiarity. She sank slowly into her chair and leaned toward Angel. "I take it slaying is off limits in here, right?"   
  


He nodded. "Neutral territory. Why?" He glanced around, his eyes narrowing when the settled on the blonde near the stage.   
  


Faith noted his gaze. "That's why. Vampire."   
  


Cordelia glanced around, startled. "Where?" Faith gestured toward the stage. Cordelia looked then smiled and waved her hand dismissively, nearly knocking her drink over in the process. "Oh that's not a vampire. It's Spike." Faith raised her eyebrows in surprise. Cordelia amended her statement. "Well he IS, but he can't bite anyone. He's like, friends with Buffy now or something. It's a long story."   
  


Faith winced. "I bet it is." Angel stood, but Faith yanked him quickly back down. He turned to look at her, his gaze questioning and distracted. "Umm . . if we can't attack him and he's not a biting fly, how 'bout we just stay here and leave him alone?"   
  


Angel looked at her, seeing an expression of guilt on her face, though she tried to hide it. "Why?"   
  


"No reason. Just made sense to me is all. Why bother the guy if we can't turn him into dust?"   
  


Angel glared. "Faith . . ." He trailed off, warning in his voice.   
  


Faith winced. "Okay, alright. See, last time I was in Sunnydale I sorta had a run-in with Spike. Not a big thing . . . but I'd rather he not have a chance to figure out it was me."   
  


Gunn frowned. "Why wouldn't he know it was you? Why would he have to figure it out if he met you?"   
  


Faith flushed and fidgeted. Cordelia intervened. "Because she was Buffy." Gunn and Angel both turned to stare at her in puzzlement. She blinked. "What? You guys didn't know that? Angel? Buffy never told you?"   
  


Angel studied Faith, who seemed to be considering crawling under the table to hide. "No . . .I guess not. What happened Faith?"   
  


Faith sighed. "See, when I woke up from the coma and ran away from the hospital, this demon delivered an . . . inheritance, I guess. A video from the Mayor, that he made in case he died after the Ascension. With the video was this . . . thing. A magic device. When two people touch it, it made them switch bodies."   
  


Gunn interrupted. "What do you mean switch bodies?" He glanced at Cordelia. "Don't you people hang out with anyone normal? Cordy shrugged, Faith and Angel ignored the comment.   
  


She continued. "Switch bodies. As in take you and plop you in someone else's body. Your mind, your memories, your everything. In someone else's body. I went after Buffy . . . and her mom. At her house. Buffy and I fought and I used the magic thing on her and we switched bodies. She was all disoriented from the switch, and I managed to knock her out. The cops came, and the paramedics, and they took her away . . . thinking she was me."   
  


She hung her head, her face sad and full of regret. "I booked a flight out of the country, and hung around Sunnydale, living Buffy's life until it was time to leave. I saw the way her friends treated her, how they felt about ME. Her mom . . . felt sorry for me. Said she thought I must be unhappy. I . . . . her boyfriend told her he loved her. I was all ready to leave, live out my life as Buffy Summers. When I saw this news story about a group of vampires who had taken over a Church. I hadn't slain for a while. I thought I was beyond caring what happened. I was wrong. I went there to help. To slay. To do what I was born to do. I was fighting the vamps when suddenly Buffy showed up. I don't know how she escaped, but she was just there. We fought again, and she used a device to switch us back."   
  


She sighed. "I took off after that. That's when I came to LA . . and ran into Wolfram & Hart. You know the story from there."   
  


Silence dragged on for a long moment, until finally Angel cleared his throat. "You didn't say how you met Spike."   
  


Faith fidgeted. "I ran into him at The Bronze." Seeing Gunn's confusion, she added. "A nightclub in Sunnydale." Gunn nodded in understanding. "He thought I was Buffy. I might have . . . led him on a little bit."   
  


Understanding lit Angel's face. "Ahh, okay. I see. Well, we just won't tell him. Okay?"   
  


Faith smiled. "You mean I don't have to apologize to him?"   
  


Cordelia snorted. "I think you can skip on the apologies to blood-thirsty British vampires." She hesitated, then barged on. "Feel free to apologize to Californian actresses though. And British Watchers, when they get back."   
  


Faith flushed again. "Cordelia, I'm sorry. For everything."   
  


The other girl opened her mouth, seemingly on the verge of a comment. She slammed her jaw shut again and swallowed, finally giving Faith a smile. "You're forgiven. It may take me a while to trust you, but I'll work on it, so long as you stay on our side of the path. Okay?" 

Faith nodded, smiling back. "Thank you."   
  


Cordelia glanced up at the stage. "Shocking supernatural stories and touching apologies aside, looks like a certain blonde vampire is going to sing."   
  


Angel spun to face the stage, his eyes wide, a smile on his face. "Thank GOD he didn't see me sing."   
  


The Host stepped up to the microphone again. "A repeat performance, since he hit the sauce a little too hard last night and forgot to get his reading on the way out. Here's Spike the Vampire singing a familiar song." The demon sent a huge grin in Angel's direction, leaving the vampire puzzled.   
  


The confusion eased as soon as the music started. Faith, Cordelia, and Gunn all burst into laughter. Angel scowled. Cordy kicked him under the table, flashing her teeth at him in a wide grin. " Looks like the musical taste runs in the family." Spike started singing.   
  


_"Nibblin' on spongecake, watchin' the sun bake All those tourists covered with oil._

_Strummin' my twelve string, on my front porch swing. _

_The smell of the shrimp beginning to boil. . ."_   
  


Faith nudged Angel with an elbow. "Must admit, he's got you beat on the vocals." He shook his head in disbelief. Not only did he meet up with his grandchilde in a Karaoke bar, but Spike picks the same song he did, TWICE. What were the odds? He watched him, grudgingly admitting to himself that the blonde vampire wasn't bad.   
  


Spike finished and stepped offstage, lighting up a new cigarette as The Host introduced the next singer. Angel rose and moved silently forward, taking no notice of Faith, who followed him with equal stealth. He walked forward, staying out of Spike's line of vision, Faith at his heels, which was surprising considering her lack of eagerness to meet Spike. He watched as the blonde vampire waited impatiently for the demon. The Host came over after a moment, smiling widely. Angel listened as he spoke to Spike. "Well, musical talent may not run in your family, but you were a surprising treat."   
  


Spike took a long drag from his cigarette, unaware of his audience. "Whatever mate. Just tell me what you saw."   
  


The Host shrugged. "Well . . . it's a long and complicated story, and you might want to say hello to some old friends first." He pointed a finger toward where Angel watched, Faith hovering behind him.   
  


Angel smiled and gave a mock-friendly wave. "Spike."   
  


The cigarette dropped from the blonde vampire's mouth. "Bloody hell!!"   
  
  
  


******************************************************************************   
  


The Gods hated him. That was the only explanation for it. A million people running around, a million demons lurking in corners, a hundred thousand bars, and he went to the one where Batman took his bloody bat-friends for a drink and a tune. And that damn green skinned ponce was enjoying it too. He probably knew Angel and his cronies came here. It wasn't fair. Kill a few hundred people and Fate started running you through the wringer.   
  


Spike sneered at Angel. "Sorry mate. No time to chat with the master of soul. Have to discuss a few things with big, green, and ugly here."   
  


The Host snorted through his highball. "Hey!"   
  


Spike ignored him. His eyes had turned to Faith, who still stood in Angel's shadow. He gave her a charming smile, recognizing her as the performer on stage when he'd walked in. "You I'll make time for though, luv. You've a pretty voice. I'd love to hear it begging me for a ride." He leered at her, enjoying the anger in Angel's expression at his crude words.   
  


The dark haired singer laughed. "Don't you wish blondie. Sorry, my standards are pretty high. I like my men with a pulse. You save that ride for someone else."   
  


Spike frowned at her. Something familiar about that girl. Couldn't quite point it out though. He studied her a minute, noting her refusal to meet his eyes. Something funny here. Maybe he could have figured it out if he was a bit more sober. Angel stepped in front of the girl, blocking his view. Spike smirked at him. "What's up your arse, Angelus? She not giving you a ride either? She does have that 'pulse only' policy. Don't take it personally." He tilted his head. "So does the Slayer know about your pretty little singer? She should you know. She still carries a bloody torch for you. It's bright enough to light half the bleeding country." His words were slurring a bit, despite his attempts to control it.   
  


Angel shook his head. "Nothing for Buffy to know about. Faith's a friend."   
  


Spike frowned. "Faith?" A memory was jogging his sodden brain. He shook his head, cursing himself for drinking. He hadn't wanted to do that tonight, not after he'd finally gotten up the nerve to sing last night, then completely forgotten to stay for a chat with the green guy. He looked at the girl again, narrowing his eyes. He spoke aloud, trying to jump start his memory. "Dark hair, this tall." He raised his hand to about Faith's height. "Name of Faith, criminally insane." He smiled, the memory now clear. "Rogue slayer, are you luv? Damn Scoobies were looking for you a while back." He glances from her to Angel. "Guess Soul boy found you first." He smirked at Angel again. "Got a thing for the Slayers, eh Angelus? What turns you on? The super strength? The danger? Like legs that lock so hard they crack a rib?"   
  


Angel growled faintly and reached for him, but Faith was faster. She sprang forward from behind Angel, one hand grasping Spike's throat. She spun him bodily around and pushed him roughly against the nearest wall, pinning him by his throat. "Angel and I are just friends Spike." She smiled, the expression predatory. "But tell you what, you and me take a walk out of here, and I'll show you the size of my stake." She ran her free hand down his side and over his waist, her strong hand suddenly gripping an area that was meant to be treated with the greatest of gentleness. Spike sucked in a breath, his face going red with pain. She leaned forward, whispering in his ear. "You really should stop thinking with this part of your anatomy, William. It's meant for much more interesting things." She chuckled throatily and let him go. He slumped down, one hand going to unconsciously protect the wounded area. He glared at her. She smiled back. "Unless, of course, they neutered more than your fangs when they played with your brain." He growled faintly, his eyes furious. Her smile shifted to a grin. "What's the matter Spike? That little chip keeping you from hitting back? Poor baby. Want me to just put you out of your misery?"   
  


Spike stood up straight, glaring, his gaze flicked toward Angel. "How the hell did you know about the chip? Bloody Angelus telling everyone about it?"   
  


Angel was watching Faith, noting the ease in her manner, the confidence that came with violence. He shook his head. He wished it didn't come so easy to her. She caught his expression and backed away from Spike, a hint of guilt crossing her features. Angel erased the censure from his expression and turned again to Spike. "I didn't tell anyone Spike. I didn't tell them ANYTHING." He emphasized the last word, his dark eyes staring into his grandchilde's. He saw comprehension in Spike's expression after a moment. He gave Angel a slight nod of thanks. Angel still wasn't sure why he hadn't told Buffy that Spike was no longer neutered. A lingering family loyalty perhaps. He glanced at Faith and saw that Gunn and Cordelia had come to stand with them when Faith had gone after Spike, each casually gripping a stake. He shook his head with a faint smile. His people came prepared.   
  


The Host stepped forward. "Hate to bring this charming family reunion to a close, but I have other customers waiting to assault my ears, and William and I need to have a little chat. To which you are NOT invited, big nosey thing." He directed the last to Angel, who frowned mightily. "So you four go and sit down. William will come over for a nice little tete a tete as soon as the two of us are done."   
  


Spike snorted. No chance in Hell of that. He'd be out the door soon as greenie was finished. He noted the presence of Cordelia and Gunn, not recognizing the latter. He smiled at Cordelia. Much as he hated to admit it, of all the Scoobies- aside from the Nibblet- he'd liked her the best. She had a mouth on her. She gave him an uncertain smile in return. He turned back to Angel. "Yeah. Listen to the man and run along and play with your pals Angel. Big Bad will come visit soon."   
  


Faith smiled a crooked smile at that. "Big Bad?" She seemed ready to say more, but Angel shushed her, nudging her back toward the table. She shrugged and went, Cordelia and Gunn with her.   
  


Angel stopped and turned back to Spike. "You and I aren't done here Spike. We've got some things to discuss. We can do them all nice and cheerful here . . . or I can track you down and do it a much more difficult way."   
  


Spike laughed. "Like you could find me if I didn't want you to, Nancy boy. But sod off. I'm not going anywhere."   
  


Angel frowned, but turned and walked away, returning to his table, though his eyes remained locked on Spike. Spike gave a mocking little wave and then turned to The Host. "So, what do I have Doc? Plague? Smallpox?"   
  


The Host didn't smile. He motioned to the corner, where it was darker and no one could overhear. Spike followed him and waited expectantly as the demon took a sip of his drink. "Well, Spike isn't it?" He didn't wait for an answer, but continued. "I see a fate that's all tied in with the fate of that happy little bunch over there." He nodded toward Angel's table, smiling a bit at Spike's immediate scowl. "Not only that, but you've a fate tied in with all kinds of things. There are roads open to you, vampire. You've got to pick which team you want to play for." He leaned casually back against the wall. "You can choose to keep your newly earned conscience, or chuck it and play with your old friends again." He smiled faintly. "There are a handful of people born with a calling, a mark of fate if you will. You're one of them. But the kicker of it, is that you're not labeled for either side." His smile faded. "You're marked as a warrior, but no one knows which side you'll wind up working for. Whichever one it is, you'll play a bigger part than you understand." He gestured toward Angel. "Like him. He's a big player, for either side."   
  


Spike scowled. "I didn't ask to be so bleeding important."   
  


The Host shrugged. "No one ever does. Not Angel, not his pretty little seer, not the Slayers. Fate's a bitch that way. She picks her ponies with no account for how they'll take to carrying all that weight in the backstretch." His face saddened a bit. "You've lost a lot. There's a black haired demon on your back. You know what she'd want you to do. But, gotta tell you, don't pick your path for her. Or for the blonde in your brain either. In the end you'll hate both of them." He studied the vampire a moment. "And no matter what happens, I don't think you want to hate them."   
  


Spike hesitated, then shook his head. "Look, you can philosophize and moralize all you like. I want to know one thing. What happened to the chip . . and do I-" He hesitated again, his mouth twisting. "And do I have a soul?"   
  


The Host shrugged. "Why do you ask a question you already know the answer to?" Spike growled at that, and the demon raised his hand placatingly. "Hold on, calm down. You need to hear it out loud. Yes. You have a soul."   
  


Spike's scowl returned with a vengeance. "How?!"   
  


The demon shrugged. "How did your black haired slayer hold on to hers? How did the blonde? Vampire's lose their souls because they don't want to hold onto them. Because the demonic side of them is stronger, and they don't want to fight. But if they're tough enough, if their will is strong enough and the desire strong enough, they CAN hold on to them. The Slayers discovered that. You had some help with that chip. Now that it's out, you'll find it getting harder. You'll have to work at it more, if you want to keep it. Otherwise it'll slip away, and you'll be William the Bloody again." He shrugged again. "Which is fine and dandy if that's what you want. If not, you've got some hard work ahead of you."   
  


Spike looked confused. "Then why did Nancy boy lose his soul again after he and Buffy shagged?"   
  


The demon's expression turned thoughtful. "I don't know. My guess is it's because he doesn't accept the demon half of him as being present in the human half. So when the demon arises, he doesn't fight it, 'cause that would be admitting that he COULD have fought against it all along. He's not willing to do that. His guilt's too heavy for him to admit that there might have been a way to stop it, if he'd had a stronger will." He grinned. "But what do I know? I just work here."   
  


Spike grunted in annoyance. "Fine. Anything else pertinent you can tell me? The Masters of the bleeding Universe said I was owed a gift. Any idea what that is? A nice 'get out of soul free' card would be great."   
  


The Host made a "tsk, tsk" sound. "Is that really what you want?" He put up a hand to stop Spike's forthcoming comment. "Don't answer that. You won't tell the truth anyway. No. Don't know what your gift is. It's possible you haven't gotten it yet."   
  


"Fine. Great lot of help you've been."   
  


The Host smiled. "I wouldn't suggest trying to duck out of here. Angel's generally pretty good at finding people he's looking for."   
  


"I'll take that under consideration."   
  


The Host nodded, knowing Spike was lying. "Good." He turned back toward the stage as Spike sized up the space between his current location and the door. The demon stopped and turned halfway. "William." The vampire looked at him, eyebrows raised questioningly. The Host continued. "It wasn't your fault."   
  


Spike's fists clenched and his face went dead as The Host walked away. The vampire began edging toward the door, but saw Angel's face watching him, standing slowly from his chair. Spike swore and dashed toward the door, knowing his chances of making it were nil.   
  


Angel was slower than Spike expected and the blonde vampire grinned as he dashed out and emerged onto the dingy street. He quickly turned left, beginning a sprint toward the alleys there. If he'd had breath, it would have exploded from his chest as he collided bodily with someone, sending both of them flying to the ground. Spike saw Angel emerge from the club, his expression astonished. Spike growled and stood, brushing his clothes off as he glanced toward the person he'd slammed into. "You'd better learn to watch where you're going mate. You just foiled a perfectly good escape pl-" 

Spike's eyes widened as they met a pair of familiar brown eyes. His gaze flicked to the right, where another pair of familiar eyes, these light green, stared back. Spike let loose with a string of impressive expletives.   
  


Angel waited till the end of it, a faint smile on his stoic face. When Spike had worn down to a grumbling complaint, Angel turned to the newcomers. "Hello Buffy, Xander. What brings you here?"   
  


Spike laughed at that. "Fate. Bloody, implacable, intractable, insufferable, OBNOXIOUS Fate. If I ever see that blue-skinned bitch again, I'm going to string her up by her fingernails and play her innards like a harp."   
  


Buffy made a face at that. "Lovely image Spike. What are you all DOING here?" She saw Cordelia and Gunn, standing behind Angel. Gunn looking mystified, Cordelia eyeing Angel with a satisfied grin. She looked like a cat who'd not only gotten into the cream, but had taken a freaking bath in it.   
  


Angel shrugged. "Who knows? The biggest coincidence in the world?" He eyed Cordelia. "Or the manipulations of a soon-to-be-demoted actress turned vision seeing secretary?"   
  


Cordelia stepped out of the building. "Hey, I had nothing to do with Spike being here." She glared briefly at her employer. "And I prefer the term 'assistant'.   
  


Angel grunted at that and turned back to Buffy. He blanched at the Slayer's sudden stony expression. "Buffy what's wron-" He stopped in mid-word as he followed her gaze and saw a pale faced Faith.   
  


Faith tried to smile, the expression not coming out right on her nervous, pale face. "Hi B."   
  


Buffy said nothing, Xander, who had been staring at Faith in worried disbelief suddenly jerked his head around to stare at Buffy, alarm crossing his features. He laid a calming hand on her arm. Buffy shrugged it off. She looked instead at Angel, the steel in her face carrying over into her voice. "What is she doing here?" She finally addressed Faith, her tone harsh. "Get tired of jail Faith? Decide to break out and play in the real world again?"   
  


Three voices spoke at once. Angel stepped forward, in front of Faith. "Buffy it's not-"   
  


Xander spoke as well. "Buff, I don't think she's-"   
  


Faith's voice was the loudest, her tone incredulous. "B . . . what happened you're a, a -"   
  


The rest of them fell into silence, Faith staring in horror at her fellow slayer. Spike looked from face to face. "She's a vampire luv."   
  


Buffy, Angel, and Xander all turned to Spike at the same time. "Shut UP Spike."   
  


The blonde vampire shrugged. "Can't a guy tell the truth these days?"   
  


Angel sighed. "We all need to talk. Something's going on. I doubt it's coincidence that we're all here at the same time."   
  


Buffy sighed. "It never is. I really hate playing by someone else's rules and time frame, when I'm not even sure what the game is."   
  


Xander smiled. "Maybe we should take it up with the officials later."   
  


Buffy shot him a look. "Fine. You want to talk Angel, let's talk. Not here though. Too many listening ears from the looks of the parking lot. Let's go back to your office. Xan and I will follow you. We'll take Spike."   
  


Spike snorted. "No you won't take Spike. Spike is taking himself somewhere far away from you people and your bloody destinies."   
  


Buffy glared at the vampire. "Don't make me MAKE you come Spike. I'm in the mood to enjoy it too much."   
  


Spike considered a moment. "Fine. But there better be something to eat when we get there Soul Boy." He followed them sullenly toward the car, pretending not to notice how Buffy hovered near him, ready to stop him if he tried to run. When Xander stopped beside a red convertible, Spike took a moment to study the car, then turned with raised eyebrows toward Buffy, who had been watching him from the corner of her eye. "Does the Watcher know you stole his car?"   
  


Buffy ignored him and shoved him roughly into the back seat, noting with disgust the grin on Xander's face.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	5. Great Expectations

Author's Note: I would like to apologize to all my readers for the delay in the continuation of this story. So many of you sent me kind, encouraging e-mails wondering what had happened. My personal life went into a bit of a turbulent period. Family health issues and other such things infringed on my writing time. I am also one of those writers who is unable to work on a story when my thoughts are chaotic. I was simply too worried and stressed to write. I realize that this is a poor excuse, but hope you accept it anyway. I want to thank you for those e-mails and for caring enough to see this continued. I ask for your indulgence and understanding. Please hang in there, this story WILL be finished. It's just not coming as fast as I would have liked and expected. I hope you will stay with me. As always, reviews, comments, and e-mails of all types are encouraged. ****   
  
  
  
**Part Four:** **Great Expectations** "Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say, For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away; But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other's tale -- The female of the species is more deadly than the male." -- Rudyard Kipling, The Female of the Species   
  
  
  


As her back connected forcibly with the paneled walls of her new office, Lilah Morgan tried to remember why she had wanted this job so badly in the first place.   
  


Holland Manners had offered it to her, complete with glittering shiny strings. A junior partner, with the money, prestige, and privileges that the office contained, but more than that. A junior directing partner of special projects, the most elite department in the firm. Everyone everywhere was kissing her ass now. It was the position she had battled against Lindsey Macdonald to achieve. Now, as the brunette stared into the inhuman eyes of the blonde who pinned her to the wall by her throat, she briefly wished that Lindsey was alive and that she was taking her orders from him. Instead she was being assaulted by a pair of vampires in the office she'd inherited from her newly deceased rival. She could feel him in the office still, his lingering essence laughing at her current predicament and upbraiding her for having the temerity to take his office. This was not all it was cracked up to be. The door opened and a pair of guards stepped inside clutching stakes. She shook her head as frantically as the vampire's grip would allow as they raised the wooden stakes uncertainly toward the blonde that held her.   
  


Her attention returned to the present when the blonde released her grip and stepped back. Her soft, almost childlike voice sounded. "I don't like being lied to Lilah. Wolfram & Hart went behind my back and sent poor little Drusilla all alone to Sunnydale to face off against two Slayers. That was not part of my plan. Lindsey died. That also, was not part of my plan." She reached up one hand to softly caress the lawyer's cheek. "Or at least it wasn't my plan YET." She turned and settled herself into a soft leather chair with enviable grace. "Wolfram & Hart needs us Lilah. Right now, you need us more than we need you. Any more little problems like these, and Dru and I will go back to working on our own." She smiled, the expression faintly hungry. "But don't think we won't have a tender goodbye before we leave, isn't that right Dru?" She cast a look toward the tall dark haired woman who stood at the window, looking down at the lights of the dark city.   
  


The dark haired woman turned, her smile dreamy. She frowned and blinked as the blonde's question permeated her haze. Her eyes hardened as she glanced toward Lilah. "Grandmother was very cross when I returned to say the pretty lawyer was dead." She giggled faintly. "It's a good thing Daddy isn't here anymore, he'd have given me a whipping. I was quite bad." Her expression turned wistful. "I so liked my dress though. It kept the sun away."   
  


The blonde rolled her eyes. "You'd still have it if you hadn't cut it up to make doll's clothes Drusilla."   
  


Drusilla giggled again. "Ms. Edith doesn't like the sunlight either. It burns her eyes." She waved a hand gracefully through the air. "Like two coals they are. Burning, burning. Always burning. Even in the night."   
  


Darla sighed. "She's a doll Dru. The eyes are painted on. They don't burn unless you set them on fire."   
  


"What a lovely idea." The dark haired vampire turned back to the window with a sway of long skirts. "Look at them down there. Scurry, scurry little rats. Can't escape the watching cat." Her voice was a childish sing-song. "She is here and she is near, run away little rat, here comes the cat." Her eyes shut and her arms wrapped around herself in a shivering hug. "She searches for what isn't here. The rat that's far away." She turned and gave Darla a brilliant smile. "The naughty little Rat ate the key to the kingdom, and the Queen must stay and play with the soldiers until she gets it back again."   
  


Darla sighed. "Oookay Dru. Why don't you go find someone to eat? I'll meet you later.' Drusilla clapped her hands, her eyes going to the guards, who looked back worriedly, a belated sense of self-preservation forcing them to edge toward the door. Darla raised a hand as Dru took a step toward the suddenly shaking guards. "Dru. Not here. Go eat out."   
  


Dru shrugged, raising her eyebrows at the guards. "I think I'll have some Chinese. Such a pleasant taste. Like rice, only better." She swept gracefully out the office door, the guards following at a wave from Lilah.   
  


The lawyer cleared her throat several times, swallowing past the ache from Darla's rough grip. She went to perch on the front of her desk, wishing the blonde vampire's eyes didn't stare at her so unrelentingly. "Darla, I'm very sorry things turned out the way they did. You KNOW we want you to work with us, and Drusilla as well. Things just got out of hand, and Holland obviously felt Drusilla would be able to help the situation. She is, as you well know, quite powerful. He felt that she could have a positive effect on the situation, as both Angel and Spike would be reluctant to kill her or harm her."   
  


Darla frowned, her head tilting in thought. "Where is Holland these days? You'd think he'd be working the overtime to make up for his mistakes." She shook her head in mock regret. "It's so hard to find a lawyer with a decent work ethic these days."   
  


"Holland is easing back into work. He's . . . recovering more slowly than the senior partners had anticipated."   
  


The blond laughed throatily. "Got a spanking from the higher ups, huh? Poor little Holland . . . he really doesn't know as much as he thinks he does." Darla smiled up at Lilah as she settled casually into a soft leather chair opposite the lawyer's desk. "Isn't that right Lilah? Men never were much good at planning. You see, I knew Lindsey would be promoted over you. For all of its pioneering hiring methods, the top of the food chain at Wolfram & Hart is still an old boys' town. Lindsey was my go getter. My jumper cables. But you, Lilah, were my party planner all along." Her smile widened. "And don't think Holland and his superiors didn't have the same plan. To keep the little woman in her place, but milk her for all she's worth at the same time. Shameful really, in these modern times."   
  


The vampire paused for a long moment, her eyes assessing. Lilah shifted, uncomfortable beneath her gaze, racking her brains for something to say. Darla spoke first. "You know Lilah, Lindsey's death and your unexpected promotion leave me with a bit of a problem." The vampire ran one manicured hand through her hair, smoothing it fussily. "You see, I had ways of controlling Lindsey." She smiled ferally. "My methods may have been old fashioned, but why change it when it works? Men are such simple creatures. Bat your eyes and tilt your head and they come running and panting and begging for you to eat them." The smile turned to a grin. "Or do something else to them. Holland never played the game my way . . . but Lindsey did." Her gaze settled again on Lilah. "But you can't be led around by your crotch, can you Lilah? Us women are too smart for that. So what can I do to make sure you help me?" Darla stood, pacing slowly around the room. Lilah forced herself to remain still, not revealing her nervousness. "I can't offer you money, you already make it. I can't offer you power, you already have it." The vampire paused when she again stood directly opposite the lawyer, one hand reaching forward to stroke the brunette's hair in a soothing gesture. "Want to know what I can offer you, Lilah Morgan?"   
  


Lilah jerked away involuntarily. She stood hastily and backed away, sitting down in her desk chair instead, ignoring the vampire's grin at her obvious fear. "Darla, I work for Wolfram & Hart, not for you. I'll do everything in my power to help you, because that's what the firm wants. Other than that, I can't do anything for you."   
  


"Even if I can offer you the ONE thing you know you can't get yet? The one thing you think you're going to spend the rest of your life seeking and never ever getting?"   
  


Lilah's face went blank as her mind raced, wondering how much the blonde vampire knew. "What is it you think I want?"   
  


Darla smirked. "A bright shiny plaque, an office in Hell. Power. Prestige . . ." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Immortality." Her voice rose again, beguiling and amused. "Lilah Morgan, Senior Partner of Wolfram & Hart. Isn't that what you want?"   
  


Lilah blinked. "There's no way. No human makes senior partner. It's unheard of-"   
  


Darla held up a hand to silence her. "But not against the rules exactly. They just haven't had a human worthy of a place at the Partners' table. You could be the first."   
  


Lilah settled back in her chair, incredulity vanishing behind a businesslike veneer. "How?"   
  


The vampire smiled, triumph in her eyes. "What's the one thing this firm wants? The thing they've been beating against walls to get and haven't yet? The one person they've devoted the most time, expense, and effort to? Their first priority?"   
  


"Angel." Lilah's voice held mockery now. "Haven't you made this promise before? More than once? If your little 'seduce Angel back to the dark side' game was going to work, don't you think it would have already."   
  


The vampire's expression darkened. "No one could seduce him away from his ideals, and his precious soul. They're too important to him." Her smile returned. "But Drusilla sometimes knows the most interesting information, without even knowing that she does. Alongside her usual avalanche of nonsense, these little stones of information fall out. And when someone's there to catch the right stones . . ." Her smile widened. "She's such a useful psychotic." Darla crossed her legs with exaggerated casualness and sat back in her chair, slim fingers drumming rhythmically against the leather covered wood of the arm. "I assume you know all about Angel's pesky little curse?"   
  


Lilah nodded marginally. "Of course. One moment of pure happiness and his soul exits and he reverts to his former, less wholesome ways."   
  


"Exactly. And how did poor Angel find out about his limitations?"   
  


Lilah feigned a moment of thought, though she'd long since memorized all information regarding Angel, knowing very well the vampire's importance to the firm. "I believe he and the Slayer had an affair, and he lost his soul after their first night together."   
  


"Very good. Now here's where darling Drusilla comes in handy. How did Angel regain his soul?"   
  


Lilah frowned. "Our accounts of that were sketchy. According to our most reliable source, which isn't saying much in this case, Buffy Summers sent Angelus to hell, and he returned here with a soul."   
  


Darla licked her lips and sat forward, her lips stretching into a crooked smile. "Wrong. The Slayer sent Angel back to hell, not Angelus."   
  


Lilah shook her head in confusion. "I don't understand."   
  


"The Slayer and her people found a way to restore Angel's soul BEFORE he was sent to Hell. Apparently, it was too late to save the world without killing Angel, so Buffy had to do it anyway. Even though Angelus had a soul again."   
  


Lilah's frown deepened. "I still don't understand how that could be. The spells of restoration are long since lost. Even Wolfram & Hart were unable to find them."   
  


Darla smiled again. "Someone found them. And someone performed the spell that restored his soul. And what they gave him . . ."   
  


Lilah smiled. "They can take away." Her voice grew excited. "Who? Who knows the spells of restoration? I'll have them brought here immediately."   
  


Darla shook her head. "Not yet, Ms. Morgan. This is my game, and I'll see to it that it's played through. You can see the benefit in us working together now, I take it? My problem isn't Angel. I know what to do. My problem is The Slayer."   
  


Lilah smiled, her eyes flicking from the clock on her desk to the door. "Leave the Slayer to me."   
  


Darla rolled her eyes. "I had planned on it. But don't think that's enough to satisfy me. You want Angelus back, and your name on the file that gets it done, I'm going to have to have a little more from you."   
  


Her smiled vanished. "What more do you want?"   
  


Darla shrugged carelessly. "Dru and I, we're branching out. Looking into some new ways of wreaking havoc." She stood and moved over to stand beside Lilah, her small frame looming over the seated lawyer. "We want complete access to the files of Wolfram & Hart, particularly the files you confiscated from The Initiative." She grinned at Lilah's poorly concealed surprise. "What, didn't think I knew about the government's secret little monster hunters' club? Please. Demons fresh in from Poland know about that. It's old news. So when Dru told me that Spike's little head chip wasn't functioning, I figured someone must have gotten into the Initiative's old toys, and hit the off switch. I did some digging around and found out who it was."   
  


Lilah shook her head. "Holland would never allow me to grant you full access. You're too much of a security risk."   
  


Darla reached down and pulled the lawyer's chin toward her, forcing their eyes to meet. "Holland can be dealt with." Her predatory smile reappeared. "After all, he's just another stepping stone in your climb up the corporate ladder."   
  


Lilah hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. I'll work out access for you tonight. I have an appointment on their way, so why don't you head on out? I'll be in touch when things are ready."   
  


The blond vampire scowled. "I'm ready NOW. Why should I wait?"   
  


Lilah sighed. "Let me . . . distract the Slayers first. They could make a problem if they're not dealt with beforehand."   
  


She loosed an unnecessary breath in a heavy sigh of disappointment. "Fine. But make sure you hurry Lilah. Patience is not one of my virtues. I'll be here tomorrow night, and will expect things to be ready." The vampire turned and left the office soundlessly, the door slamming shut behind her with a heavy thud.   
  


Lilah laid her head on her hands for a moment, thoughts whirling haphazardly through her head. The situation with Darla was a golden opportunity, but it came at an inopportune time. She already had a plan in the works, one that may bring the Slayer into the fold of Wolfram & Hart at best, and at worst eliminate her as a threat to the firm. Now with this new plan unfolding as well, Lilah's life had become a juggling act that she wasn't sure she could handle. She sat up and stared at the open calendar on her desk for a moment, a slow grin shaping her lips. So she had to juggle for a while? When she was done, she would be a Senior Partner. Damn all the problems along the way, that was worth the price.   
  


A beep from her phone startled her out of her thoughts. She glanced at it, then pressed the intercom button. "Yes?"   
  


Her secretary's voice came over the slightly scratchy speaker. "Ms. Morgan? There's a . . . group here to see you. They're very reluctant to wait."   
  


Lilah smiled at the woman's nervous tone. "Send them in Barbara."   
  


"Yes Ms. Morgan."   
  


Lilah stood and walked toward the door, carefully arranging her skirt and jacket as she did so. The door crashed open and a woman walked through, a group of robed demons at her heels. The woman paused a moment, assessing the office with emotionless eyes. After a moment she turned to Lilah, her gaze measuring in the same emotionless way. The lawyer pasted a welcoming smile on her face. "Hello, thank you for coming on such short notice. I'm Lilah Morgan."   
  


The woman shook her curly mane of blonde hair and stepped forward, her hard gaze belying the smile on her face. "Hi Lilah. Beautiful office. Lovely suit." Lilah started to thank her when, for the second time that day, a hand closed around her throat. The blonde smiled again, the expression chilling. "Now tell me lawyer, how do you know who I am? And how can you help me find my key?"   
  


Lilah struggled to speak, but couldn't get enough air. She started to choke, lights dancing in the corner of her vision. The blonde only tightened her grip. A voice spoke from behind her, one of the robed figures, his tone nasal and whiny. "O Most Glorious One, perhaps the lawyer would be better able to answer if you allowed her to breathe for a moment."   
  


The blonde's grip loosened. "Good idea." Lilah fell to her knees as the woman abruptly released her. She coughed and gasped for a moment as the blonde tapped a stiletto heel in impatience. "I'm waiting."   
  


Lilah dragged herself back to her feet, hiding her resentment and forcing her bruised voice into formal tones. "As I said on the phone, we may be able to help one another achieve their goals. Shall we sit and talk, Holy One?"   
  


The blonde sulked unhappily, but stomped over to a chair and plopped into it. "Fine. But make this quick. I have a million things to do. And call me Glory."   
  


Lilah walked back to her desk, settling into her chair and facing the blonde with a confident expression. She leaned forward and pressed the intercom button on her phone. "Barbara, would you please send in our other guest now? I'm sure she's had enough of waiting."   
  


"Yes Ms. Morgan."   
  


A moment later the door to the office swung open to admit Lilah's blonde secretary, a small figure in a flowing white gown in front of her. The temperature of the room seemed to suddenly fall. The secretary backed out gracefully, hiding her shivers as Lilah moved forward to greet the newcomer. Glory rose to her feet, her angry eyes assessing the figure. "Who the HELL is that? What does a little girl with NO fashion sense have to do with my Key?"   
  


Lilah glared at the goddess, but the child raised gray eyes, her face expressionless, gray hair flowing into the silver white of her dress. "I am called Prisca." Her voice was toneless and gray. It sounded old and inhuman.   
  


"Good to know kiddie. Lilah, you have five seconds to explain."   
  


Lilah smiled, the predatory expression taking the goddess by surprise. "Prisca is ancient. She existed before the dawn of time. She is an idea, given form. Before this city came into being, this firm aided her in a task she could not, at that time, perform in the mortal world. She, in short, owes us a favor. A favor we would be willing to use on your behalf, should you help us."   
  


"What can she do for me?" Glory directed a blinding smile toward the childlike girl. "What do you do honey?"   
  


Lilah winced at the god's derisive tone of voice, but Prisca paid no attention. Pupil less, unblinking eyes stared at Glory with recognition and apathy. "I am she who guards the gates. I am the bearer of the lock and possessor of the door. I am the space between."   
  


Glory's eyes widened. "You can open my gate for me? You don't need the key?" She laughed loudly and swept forward, her hands wrapping around the girl's shoulders to swing her around in a joyful spin. She screeched when her hands touched Prisca's arms, the flesh of her fingers icing over and turning blue. "You could warn a girl, ice queen. Jeez." One of her robed minions stepped forward, blowing and massaging the god's wounded hand until she pushed him away with a grunt of annoyance. "So can you open my gate or not? Can you send me home?"   
  


"Doors that open cannot be closed, the space between is gone from that place, and two places become one."   
  


The blonde's eyes rolled back in her head, annoyance in her expression. "Not answering the question sweetie." She dropped back into her chair, idly examining one peeling hand.   
  


Lilah cleared her throat, stepping forward to catch Glory's eye. "Prisca cannot open the door herself . . . but she knows the location of all keys. She can tell you where to find yours, if you do what the firm asks of you."   
  


"I don't LIKE ultimatums lawyer. But you're not giving me a whole lot of choice here." She cocked her head to one side, her expression introspective. "The monks hid my key really well, and my time is running short. A nice point and click location would suit me just fine . . . depending on what you want me to do, of course."   
  


Lilah took a deep breath, hiding her relief at having gotten this far with the temperamental goddess. "This firm has some rather big plans for the future. Considering the location and . . . species of our Senior Partners, whether or not your dimension and ours converge won't affect them. We, and those we need, will be elsewhere. But for our plans to succeed, things must fall into place. We have a few key players that are playing for the wrong side. Two vampires and slayer. The vampires we have covered . . . the slayer is a problem."   
  


Glory's face was riddled with disgust. "You went to all this trouble to get me to kill a VAMPIRE SLAYER. Why don't you get a few vampires to do that? I have standards. I'm a god. If I just run around killing little insignificant vampire Slayers, my minions will laugh at me behind my back."   
  


The nasal minion spoke up, his voice panicked. "Oh mighty, beautiful Glorificus, we would never presume to-" 

"Yeah, yeah. Shut up. No deal Lilah. I don't kill Slayers."   
  


Lilah settled into the chair opposite the god, Prisca remaining where she was, her body eerily still. "We don't want her killed. We want her dealt with in a way only you can. She's not an ordinary Slayer. She is a vampire. With a soul. It isn't well documented, but it is believed that when you feed on the energy of a vampire it brings them into their purest demon form, eliminating any humanity and freeing the demon to work without any consideration for its host."   
  


The blonde head nodded. "Yeah, I suppose. But it's GROSS. All that Undead energy. It weakens me. For quite a while." She sighed heavily. "Isn't that just depressing? I'm immortal, stupid little things like that aren't supposed to phase me." She thought a moment. "And it makes them an animal. No true intelligence. Just bloodlust and strength. Hardly worth the effort."   
  


Lilah nodded sympathetically. "I know. And we WANT to help you return things to the way they should be. But we need your help first." She smiled. "And our mystical department head feels that the Slayer's soul might allow her to retain her intelligence, and remove her humanity and the peskier elements of conscience that a soul entails. It's a longshot, but it's worth it."   
  


"And if it doesn't work. If I suck her energy and she's just an icky Undead monster?"   
  


"Then you kill her. And your job is still done. And you will be paid."   
  


Glory hesitated, her eyes going to the childlike figure. "What about you doll? You'll come through with your part of this deal?"   
  


Prisca turned her gaze to Lilah, ignoring the god's question. "It is better that the door remains closed. This world would suffer eventual destruction when it merges with that of this creature. You understand this?"   
  


Glory clenched her teeth with frustration at being ignored, but Lilah merely gazed back at the child. "When this is over, this world will no longer be ours. Who cares what happens to the house you just moved out of?"   
  


Endlessly deep gray eyes stared into Lilah's. "Mortals were not so cold once. It is beyond my comprehension."   
  


Glory sighed again, her eyes rolling. "Yeah well, shit happens. Are you going to show me my key when they tell you to?"   
  


Prisca nodded, her attention shifting to the god. "I will. My debt will be repaid." Looking back toward Lilah she spoke again. "When this is done, I will owe Wolfram & Hart nothing. Do not call on me again. Twice more will I deal with your kind, then I am done. Once to show this one the key, and then to close the door behind you when you vacate this world. You know how to summon me, be sure it is not premature, else you will find my tolerance for such things growing short." The child didn't move or blink, but was suddenly gone, the room quickly warming again in her absence.   
  


Glory glanced slyly at Lilah. "So love, tell me where you kids are going when my door opens and the party starts?"   
  


Lilah shook her head. "I'll only know if I'm one of the ones who gets to go." She silently thought that even if she knew, she wasn't stupid enough to share that information with the god.   
  


"Well Lilah. Gotta say you impressed me. You've got some big ones girl, dangling a carrot in front of my face like that. Chances are you'd have gotten your hand bitten off for that. You seem to have lucked out." The god rose and stretched. "You've got a deal. I'll play with your little Slayer, you take care of my key."   
  


Lilah smiled triumphantly. "There's some contracts we'd like you to sign-"   
  


Glory glanced at her in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding, right? You want a god to sign your little legal papers?"   
  


Lilah blushed slightly. "Point taken. How about we just call it a gentleman's agreement?"   
  


"How about a gentlewoman's agreement? Or better yet, just a woman's agreement. Us gals have to stick together."   
  


"Fine. We have a few things to discuss before you go, there's some details you need to know."   
  


"What's to know?" The blonde paused in front of a mirror Lilah had on her wall, admiring herself and adjusting her blonde curls. "Go find a Slayer, suck her brain, come here and find my key. Seems simple enough."   
  


"This Slayer is strong. And she has companions who will want to help her. Several of these cannot be harmed. They are essential to our plans. The first is a second Slayer. Dark hair and eyes, named Faith. There are also the two vampires. One tall and slender and blonde, named Spike. The other is tall and dark, named Angel or Angelus. There will also be several humans. They are expendable, with the exception of one. A tall dark haired young man, named Alexander Harris. He is a Reader. He is not as important to our plans, but could prove useful. The Senior Partners feel he could be broken and forced to work for us. If there is no other way, kill him. But try to avoid it." Lilah went to her desk and picked up a file. She handed it to the god. "Pictures of each of them can be found in there along with histories and abilities and such. Don't underestimate them. Together they are very strong. This firm has made the mistake of underestimating them several times and have suffered each time for that assumption."   
  


Glory snorted, the inelegant noise oddly out of place in the posh office. "Please. I'm a god." She took the file though, Lilah noted with a private smile. "Where can I find them?"   
  


"They live in Sunnydale, California. But we have reason to believe they are in LA. If so, you can check the places listed in the file. Angel's hotel would be a reasonable first place to look."   
  


"Fine. I'll see you REAL soon Lilah." The god swept out the door, her entourage in tow. Lilah collapsed onto her desk, shaking with relief that the tense encounter was finished. But her face was set in a smile, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. She had done it. The Slayer would be brought to hand because of her plan. The Senior Partners would be very pleased. And, even better in her opinion, Holland knew nothing about it. She stood shakily and glanced about her office, which was finally beginning to feel like hers, instead of an ill-fitting garment left over from Lindsey. She spoke aloud to the other lawyer's lingering presence, her voice harsh. "You couldn't have done this Lindsey. I'm alive, I'm here, and I'm better than you could ever have been." She glanced around again, her smile widening. This office was HERS. For now at least. She heard Senior Partners get mansions. She wondered if that would still be true when the firm fled this world. She knew that this plan, if successful, would secure her a place on the boat, or whatever it was, out of here. And how could it fail? Glory was a god. Lilah settled into her plush chair and leaned back, her eyes closed as dreams of glory danced behind her lids.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


The blonde vampire glanced suspiciously around the dim street before slipping through the door of the old warehouse. She locked it firmly behind her and stepped inside, her eyes adjusting instantly to the comparitive brightness within. She glanced toward the center of the room, where Drusilla sat on a pile of pillows, a cowering teenager clutched in her arms, his eyes wide with terror verging on shock, blood trickling from the punctures in his neck. Darla assessed them for a moment, a slight smile curling her lips. "Pretty one Dru. Nice choice. Not Chinese though."   
  


Drusilla shrugged. "I found him with his little girl, walking in the moonlight, holding hands." Her voice turned wistful. "It reminded me of my Spike and I in France, dancing in the full moonlight."   
  


"Not a full moon tonight Dru."   
  


"I know. But it still reminded me of that night. So I took him as a momento. He didn't last very long though." Dru stroked the boy's blonde hair idly.   
  


"Should have taken a picture." Darla glanced toward the corner, where a small dark haired girl knelt, her hands and feet bound with tape. "His walking partner?"   
  


"I thought you might be hungry."   
  


"Very considerate of you dear." Darla walked further into the room, her eyes going to the two other occupants of the room, their mouths firmly taped, their hands handcuffed behind them, their feet taped. "How are our guests doing?"   
  


"They are very quiet. Didn't even say hello. They're terribly rude." Drusilla frowned in their direction, her fingers catching a drop of blood from the boy's neck and bringing it to her lips.   
  


"Their mouths are taped love. Hard to say hello." Darla ignored the cowering girl Dru had brought in as a meal and walked closer to the others, examining them closely for signs of struggle or loosened bindings. All seemed well. She lingered a moment, her hand reaching down to stroke the bright red hair of the prisoner nearest her. "Pretty little witches. Going to help us bring Angelus back, aren't you?"   
  


Dru rose to her feet, the boy dropping lifelessly onto the cushions behind her. "Is the lawyer going to help us then? Are we going to bring Daddy back?"   
  


Darla saw a tear leak from beneath the redhead's blindfold. She reached down with one finger and caught it, the witch wincing away from her touch. She studied the drop of water for a moment before rubbing it between her fingers and wiping it away on the girl's hair. "Yes Dru. She is going to help us." Darla smiled. Despite the beauty of her human face, there was no humanity in her smile. "And yes. Daddy is going to come home. Very soon."   
  


Drusilla clapped her hands together and laughed, her hair flinging out behind her as she spun in a joyously mad dance, snatching Miss Edith up from where she rested next to the boy's body. She twirled the doll around. "We'll be a family again! Daddy, Grandmum, and my Spike. All home again."   
  


Darla sighed and walked to where the whimpering girl struggled helplessly against her bonds. She knelt and began to untape the girl. "Dru, be a good girl and go get some food and water for our guests. We don't want them keeling over from hunger. They have to be healthy and whole until we're ready to use them."   
  


Drusilla nodded and scamped away, Miss Edith nestled in the crux of her left arm. Darla held the sobbing and struggling girl for a moment. "Speaking of hunger, don't you look good enough to eat." The girl struggled harder, her face frozen in an expression of utter fear. Darla's face shifted into its more monstrous appearance. The girl screamed as the vampire's fangs sank into her throat. As she fed, Darla tried to stem her impatience. Soon, it would be time. When Lilah granted her access to the files of Wolfram & Hart, the witches would bring back her Angelus. Until then, she would bide her time.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	6. It's Never Just A Coincidence

Author's Note: Well, much more time has passed than I anticipated or desired, but here's the next part of this slow-coming story. I would again like to apologize and to thank all my readers for the many encouraging emails and demands for the next part. Without your persistence, I may well have given this up as a bad job because of the hectic state of my life. Things continue to swirl and are highly crazy in my life. So the parts may well continue to come with agonizing slowness, for me as well as those of you waiting to read them. I have made a pact with myself and several loyal readers that this story WILL be completed, come hell or high water. So I guarantee that you will not be left hanging for the rest of your life, just for a while. My question is this, would you rather I waited until I have several parts to post, or until I've finished the whole thing? Which would be better for you all? To just get the parts as soon as their finished and beta read, or to wait till you have more? Drop me an email and let me know, I'd like to make it as easy on you nice people as I can. adena@atlantic.net. Also, if any of you are familiar with the Dark Angel, and X-Men movie-verse genres and would like to Beta Read a long and involved project I'm working on as a gift, please email me as well. Thanks again to all of you, and I hope it was worth the wait! 

**Author's Note Number 2: I have no idea why this chapter posted a half dozen times. My sincere apologies. It got an error a few times, assumed it hadn't gone through and gave up. Which was good, 'cause turned out I was uploading a chapter I hadn't finished editing, anyways. So here it is, with my common errors ("it's & its, your & you're, etc. I know the difference, but tend to type it wrong, so I always run a last minute check if I remember) fixed and, hopefully, a single copy. Sorry guys!**   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
**Part Five:** **It's Never Just A Coincidence** "One meets his destiny often in the road he takes to avoid it." -- French Proverb   
  
  
  


"You drive like an old woman Harris."   
  


"Shut UP Spike." Xander did his best to ignore the vampire, who slouched glumly in the backseat.   
  


"I'm serious. My grandmum would walk there faster than this."   
  


"Your grandmother has been dead for over a hundred and fifty years."   
  


"And yet she's still faster."   
  


"Shut UP BOTH OF YOU." Buffy entertained a brief but heartfelt fantasy that involved strangling both of them, one hand each. She turned to Xander, her eyes hard. "Xander, did you know Faith was released from prison?"   
  


He dedicated every ounce of his attention to the road, not daring to glance at her. "No."   
  


She was quiet a moment, studying him intently. Her voice was flat when she finally spoke. "You're lying."   
  


"Not exactly."   
  


"You're not exactly lying, or you didn't exactly know she was released?"   
  


"Both."   
  


"Xander, just answer me. Did Cordelia tell you Faith was released?"   
  


He sighed heavily. "No. She didn't tell me. But she didn't have to."   
  


Buffy clenched her hands into fists. She held her voice carefully even. "Why didn't you tell me?"   
  


He shrugged. "Didn't know you were going to be down here with me Buff. And I didn't know how soon she was going to be released, or if you were going to see her or Angel or anything. You've got enough worries right now, I didn't want to add Faith to the mix right now."   
  


"It is not your JOB to protect me from things! I'm the Slayer Xander, if there's any information relevant to me, I need to know. How am I supposed to do that if you keep hiding things from me?"   
  


His own voice was angry now. "How am I supposed to know what to tell you and what not to, Buffy? Cordelia didn't TELL ME. I HEARD her. I stole her private thoughts from out of her mind and heard them. No one is supposed to be able to do that! And you want me to TELL YOU everything I hear? Want to know what Willow and Tara really think about each other? Want to hear what Giles is pondering when he stares off into space? How 'bout an intimate discussion of Wesley's inner turmoil? I'm not supposed to KNOW this stuff Buffy! I can't always turn it off. It gets stronger and stronger and I don't know what to say and what not to! Where's the line Buffy? Want me to tell Angel some of the thoughts that flit through your mind when you wear that ring he gave you? Huh? You want everything told to you Buffy, why don't you tell me where to start?"   
  


His voice rose continually through his speech until he was nearly shouting. His accompanying gestures grew more and more wild as he progressed. Spike watched in growing alarm as the car swerved drunkenly across the road. "Hands on the wheel Harris!" His voice was almost squeaky with panic as the car lurched to the left, narrowly missing an oncoming car. The other car's driver honked angrily as Xander righted them, the man's middle finger upraised as the car sped by. Spike returned the gesture half-heartedly, his attention focused on the tense pair in the front seats. "Why don't you two let me drive? You can have your cat fight in the back until I find a nice mudpit you can wrestle in. I may even charge admission. Droopy Boy the Mind Reader Vs. The Whining Slayer, one night only."   
  


The answer came from two mouths at once. "Shut UP Spike." But the shared phrase lessened the tension somewhat.   
  


After a moment Buffy spoke. "I'm sorry Xander. I wasn't thinking about how hard it was for you. Just how much I hate not knowing. Everywhere I turn lately, it's 'surprise Buffy' day. Guess I don't deal with surprises very well."   
  


Xander shook his head. "I'm sorry too. I probably should have told you about Faith. It's something you should know. I won't withhold information like that again. I promise." He watched as Angel pulled his car up in front of a large, dilapidated hotel. He pulled up behind the black car and glanced at Buffy. "We okay here?"   
  


She smiled. "We're fine. Hissy fit over and accounted for."   
  


Spike rolled his eyes. "Lovely moment. I'm getting teary back here."   
  


Buffy twisted in her seat to turn and face the vampire. "As for you . . . where have you been? We thought something might have happened to you when you just up and vanished like that, after everything that had happened." Xander grimaced at the note of concern in her voice. He of all people knew the depth of the blonde vampire's feelings for Buffy. But he still didn't like it. And he still didn't trust Spike.   
  


Spike heard it too. And it only added to his frustration. He didn't want to be the Slayer's little friend. Didn't want to play fetch with the Scoobies and watch her trot about with guys like Captain America. And he didn't want to watch her spend her life mooning over the Ponce, either. He didn't know what he wanted. He just knew he couldn't have it. And the frustration of that was there when he answered her. "Had to get away from you luv. Had enough of you and Sunnyhell and your little peon friends. Headed to greener pastures." He glanced out the window. "Unfortunately, I somehow wound up here instead."   
  


His hostility annoyed Buffy. "Maybe you came here to find Drusilla and go about your merry way again? Have her hunt while you keep house?"   
  


He didn't take the bait, merely shrugged. "Maybe."   
  


Xander sighed, swung the car door open and stepped out. He flipped his seat forward to let Spike slide out and follow him. The two walked inside, a fuming Buffy trailing behind.   
  
  
  


******************************************************************************   
  
  
  


Angel watched from beside the desk as Spike and Xander entered, Buffy following looking even more out of sorts than she had outside the bar. He knew he should have called, or made Cordy call, and tell her about Faith. But he had, he silently admitted, chickened out. The days when he could predict Buffy's every reaction were gone. She had grown up and was now a thoroughly independent young woman. He never seemed to be able to guess exactly what she'd do anymore. And that bothered him more than he cared to think about.   
  


Spike made a beeline for the desk and the small refrigerator that hid behind it. He rummaged through it. "You fasting mate? Where's the blood?" He sighed in frustration and withdrew a pint of ice cream from the refrigerator's minuscule freezer.   
  


Cordelia leaned over from her place on the counter and slapped him smart on the head. Ignoring his cries of pain she pointed to the ice cream and then to the freezer. "Put it back. I'm saving that for the next time Angel does something stupid."   
  


Two vampires, one blonde, one dark, rolled their eyes at that. Spike replaced the ice cream with a grumble. "Bloody food Nazi. Fellow can't get a bit of blood or a pint of ice cream around here. Aren't hotels supposed to be hospitable?"   
  


Cordelia flashed him a smile. "Not this one."   
  


An awkward silence fell over the group as they all traded furtive glances. Buffy glanced around the massive waiting room, taking in the lacy pillows on the couch with a slight half smile. Obviously, Cordelia had a say in the decorating scheme. Otherwise the whole place would be shades of black and gray. "Nice place Angel. Must cost a fortune."   
  


He shrugged with exaggerated casualness. "I got a good deal. The place still needs a lot of work."   
  


The slender black youth spoke up with a slight smile. "Yeah, work we can't afford."   
  


Cordelia glared at him. "We will eventually." She shot a glance at Buffy. "Oh yeah. Buffy, Xander, Spike this is Gunn. He works with us sometimes. When he decides to come into work."   
  


Gunn smiled easily, hoisting himself onto the desk beside her. "Can't help it if I got better places to be sometimes."   
  


She snorted. "Yeah, like EVERY TIME I announce a cleaning day. Big nasty scaly demon, you're right here. I ask you to dust and suddenly you have to go play with the rest of your boys' club."   
  


Their bantering did little to ease the tension. Faith stood in Angel's shadow, her eyes glued on the floor. Buffy studied her, her eyes flicking to Xander who was staring at the other Slayer intently. She elbowed him, reminding him to keep his thoughts to himself and allow Faith the same courtesy. He shrugged and gave her a half smile. "I can't help it when they yell."   
  


Buffy sighed, attempting to stifle her own curiosity. "You should learn." She eyed the rest of them and made a conscious decision. She allowed the tension to leave her own body and watched as one by one the followed her lead. Except for Spike, who hadn't been tense to begin with, and Faith, who still stared at the floor. "Let's move this to those nice comfy couches people. Looks like we've all got stories to swap."   
  


They moved at her order. Buffy taking a loveseat, Cordelia plopping down beside her. Xander perched on the arm on her other side. Spike flopped onto the backless couch, stretching his legs out and letting his head fall back and his eyes close. Angel glared at him and shoved his legs down, sitting where they had been. Faith sat beside him, shrinking away from him as far as the sofa would allow. Gunn surveyed the situation, then dragged the chair over from behind the desk, spinning it around and straddling it, his chin resting on his hands on the chair's high back. Silence settled again. Xander glanced from one to another, sighing heavily. "Okay, everyone has a different way to start this conversation spinning in their brain. You're all very loud I might add. I'd ask you to shut up, but that never works. How bout I just start us off? First things first, have any of you heard from Giles or Wesley?"   
  


Everyone shook their heads silently. Spike glanced around then nodded. "Yep. The Watcher called me from Hawaii. He and the little Watcher Jr. took a lovers' jaunt down to the beach. They're spending the week with nothing but their skivvies and a Daiquiri. They promised to send pictures."   
  


"Unpleasant mental image. Thanks a lot Spike." Xander glared at Spike.   
  


The vampire shrugged, a slight smile on his lips. "Where'd the Watchers go then?"   
  


Cordelia glanced at him in disgust. "They went to England to talk to the Council. We haven't heard from Wesley in a week. How about you all?"   
  


"The same. No word from Giles for a week. Last time we spoke with him, he seemed fine though. He said the Councilmen were listening to him and Wesley. He used much bigger words, but that was the gist of it." Xander sighed and shifted uncomfortably. "Anyone else worried?"   
  


Buffy nodded. "I think we all are."   
  


Spike raised his hand. "I'm not."   
  


Buffy's temper snapped. "Are you TRYING to be difficult? Not that you're ever anything BUT a pain in the ass, but couldn't you at least shut up and let us normal people talk things over without your stupid comments?"   
  


He snorted. "Not a normal person in this room luv." He eyed Gunn. "Except maybe for you. Odds are against it though, since you hang out with Batman and his cronies though."   
  


"I am NOT a crony. I am an ASSISTANT." Cordelia seemed to be contemplating hurling a tastefully lacy pillow at him.   
  


Angel hastily interjected. "I don't think we should panic about Giles and Wesley yet. Both of them know how to take care of themselves. Even if we went over there to find them, we wouldn't know the first thing about where to look. And barging into the Council's headquarters might not be the best idea." Seeing Buffy's expression darken at that, he quickly added. "Not that we won't do just that if we don't hear from them soon."   
  


Buffy nodded in agreement. She turned to Faith. She seemed to think for a long moment, her green eyes steady on the other girl's face. Faith flushed and looked away. When Buffy finally spoke, it was with perfect calm and absolute politeness. "Faith, when were you released?"   
  


Faith looked back at the other Slayer, she forced a quick smile. "Just this morning."   
  


Buffy hesitated again. "Why?"   
  


She shrugged. "Beats me B. I signed up for a life sentence, and I fully expected to serve a large chunk of that. It wasn't my decision though. Lawyers came around and told me that I was done."   
  


Buffy's eyes turned to Angel. "Lawyers? Wolfram & Hart?"   
  


Angel nodded. "Who else?"   
  


"It doesn't make sense." Buffy frowned thoughtfully. "I know they tried to hire Faith to kill you back then, but last I heard she hadn't done them any favors. Why would they want her let out? Especially when she's trying- eh, I mean when she's reformed?" She flushed lightly at her slip.   
  


Faith spread her hands. "Damned if I know." She hesitated a long moment, obviously reluctant to continue. She finally gave in with a sigh, her voice quiet. "All I could think of is that they expect me to go all bad ass on you again."   
  


Buffy stared hard at the Slayer. "Is that going to happen?"   
  


Faith shook her head vehemently, her tone strident and pleading at once. "Not a chance."   
  


For the first time since their reunion, Buffy smiled at her. The expression was tentative and shadowed with memories from their difficult past, but it was genuine. "Then I believe you."   
  


Faith smiled back, the haunted look in her eyes lightening just a little. Angel glanced between the two Slayers, then cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. "This still doesn't answer the question of why she's out. No way we can answer that I don't think."   
  


"Chaos." All eyes turned to Spike, who was absently studying the chipped black polish on his left hand. He looked up to see them staring, his expression going instantly guarded. "What?"   
  


"What are you talking about Spike? What does chaos have to do with it?" Angel glared at his grandchilde, waiting for him to answer.   
  


Spike sat up with a sigh. "That blue bitch told us that. Said that everything was just about Order and Chaos. Letting the slaphappy Slayer out of jail to play with the big boys again just adds another thing to the mix. Makes it more complicated, less predictable, more chaotic. Everyone following me or do I need to make a chart?"   
  


Xander scowled. "How do you know that's why they released her?"   
  


The vampire shrugged. "I don't. But do you have a better idea?"   
  


Buffy sighed. "I guess it makes as much sense as anything else. So what about us all meeting up? Shall we chalk it up to coincidence? Or Cordelia?"   
  


Cordy snorted. "I refuse to accept responsibility for Spike being here."   
  


Buffy ignored her. "Anyone know of any pending end of the world issues?"   
  


Gunn shrugged, a slight smile on his face. "None that we know nothing about." He shook his head slightly. "Things were much simpler before I met you Angel. All we did was off a few vampires. Now we're LOOKING for an apocalypse to stop."   
  


Buffy shrugged and spoke before Angel had a chance to. "If we go looking for it first, maybe it won't sneak up on us. Be prepared, that's my motto."   
  


Faith laughed lightly. "Never knew you were a boy scout B."   
  


Buffy's brow furrowed then she smiled in understanding. "Lots you don't know about me."   
  


The dark haired Slayer smiled broadly. "I just would have liked to see you in the little uniform."   
  


Spike eyed the blonde Slayer with a decidedly unhealthy smile. "Wouldn't we all."   
  


Buffy made a sound of disgust and Angel casually backhanded Spike across the face. The younger vampire made a screech of pain and held his hand to his nose, glaring at his grandsire with loathing. Faith studied Spike with a grin. "You're kinda a perv, aren't ya?"   
  


Xander smiled. "He's their king."   
  


"Ahh. I've always wondered who rules the perverts of the world. Gotta say, not really all that fond of your subjects, King Clairol."   
  


Spike gave Faith a nasty smile. "Oh c'mon luv. I bet you've loved plenty of them."   
  


Cordelia finally made use of the pillows, flinging one with surprising accuracy at Spike. "Don't you come with a mute button?" Suddenly her face paled and her hand flew to her head. "Ow ow ow ow ow . . . ."   
  


Spike didn't glance at her, rubbing at his eyes instead. "What in the bloody hell are you whining for? I'm the one who got hit in the eye with a pillow!" He glanced up as Angel leapt off the couch, his hands going to Cordelia's shoulders as Buffy reached to support the convulsing girl from the other side. "Oh. Yeah. That."   
  


Everyone seemed to leap up at once, simply standing with wide eyes when they saw that Cordelia was already being taken care of. Faith stared at the girl with fearful eyes. "What's wrong with her?"   
  


Gunn glanced at the Slayer, his own gaze filled with worry. "Cordelia has visions from the Powers that Be. They tell Angel and us what needs to be done, who needs help. They seem to be getting more violent these days. Almost like seizures."   
  


Buffy glanced at Gunn, hearing his words over Cordelia's pain filled moans. She turned to Angel to see him looking back at her. She shook her head. "Guess it wasn't coincidence."   
  


The vampire tightened his hold on sobbing Seer and smiled grimly. "It never is."   
  


Cordelia finally stilled, her breathing coming in short gasps, tears streaking through her makeup. Angel spoke softly. "Cordy. What was it? What did you see?"   
  


She looked up at him, her eyes huge, her body shaking. "Oh God . . . Angel . . ." Her shoulders shook harder as fresh tears welled up.   
  


He knelt next to her, pulling her close and rocking her gently. "Shh, shh. It's alright. We can wait." Buffy watched him, her eyes veiled as his arms held the other girl. She tried to control faint pangs of jealousy.   
  


Cordelia pulled away and pushed her hair away from her face. "It's Darla. She had a blonde girl . . . she looked familiar but I couldn't see her face really. She was . . . torturing her. And then I saw Willow. She was casting a spell. It looked . . . it looked a lot like the one she did in the hospital that time. Before Buffy . . . you know. The hell thing. Oh God." She closed her eyes again in pain as the others looked on in growing concern. "It hurts. God. Angel, she killed her. Willow did the spell, and then she tried to do something else, but she couldn't because Drusilla killed her, and Darla killed the girl . . . .I think it was Tara. And then I saw . . . Angelus." She looked at Angel, her eyes fearful. "It looked like you, but I knew it wasn't, and there were all these people dying." She buried her head in his shoulder again. "I keep seeing her die. It doesn't stop."   
  


Angel held her, but his eyes had gone dead. He looked at Xander. "Where is Willow?"   
  


Xander's face had gone pale and his eyes showed the first signs of panic. "She's in San Diego . . . I know where they're staying. I'll call. They should have checked in yesterday." He ran to the phone and dialed information, trying to hold back the frantic tones in his voice.   
  


Buffy stood, her face white as a ghost, her eyes dead. "I didn't even know she was leaving. I forgot she was going there. If it wasn't for Xander, I wouldn't have any idea where she was supposed to be." She shook her head. "I've barely spoken to her, to them, in weeks. Some friend I am." The blankness of her gaze turned to cold fury as she turned to Angel. "Where are they?"   
  


He shook his head, gently releasing Cordelia when he was sure she would stay upright. "I don't know. Buffy it's not your-"   
  


"Not my fault. I know. People tell you that enough, you start to wonder whether it even means anything." Buffy stared at Xander, who was obviously on impatient hold on the phone.   
  


Faith cleared her throat nervously. "B, it's alright. We'll find her, and take care of whoever it is."   
  


Buffy said nothing, only staring at Xander as he hung up the phone. She looked at him hopefully. He shook his head, answering her unasked question. "They never checked in."   
  


Silence stretched through the room with sudden and oppressive weight. "Then they already have them." Buffy's voice was calmly matter of fact. Its emotionless tones gave away the depth of her distress. Suddenly she whirled, her eyes landing hopefully on Spike. "Spike . . . where's Drusilla? Do you know?"   
  


The vampire shook his head. "Not a clue luv. Sorry."   
  


Her eyes narrowed. "If you're lying to me . . ."   
  


He looked away, a hurt expression flashing so quickly across his face she wasn't sure if she'd really seen it at all. "I'm not. Ask Mind Reader Boy over there if you think I am."   
  


Buffy glanced at Xander, who shook his head. "He really doesn't know."   
  


Spike stood, searching through the pockets of his jacket for his cigarettes. "See?"   
  


"We have to go then. We have to find them. Now. Before something . . . bad happens." Buffy stood, turning toward the door, the rest of them following suit.   
  


They all looked up in shock when the doors of the hotel suddenly burst inward, shattering off their hinges and falling to the floor. A small blonde woman stood in the door, a cruel smile on her face. Her eyes settled on Buffy, who had instinctively gone into a defensive crouch. "I'd say something bad's already happened, honey."   
  


Seven pairs of eyes widened and stared without comprehension at the woman. Buffy spoke first, her eyes hard. "Who are you? And I hope you plan on paying for that door."   
  


The woman smiled, the expression taking on a strange reptilian look in her lovely face. "You mean you don't recognize me? I'm hurt, really. You'd think people in this world would know greatness when they see it." She sighed. "Than again, ya'll really aren't big on looking outside the box, are ya?" She stepped further into the room and a group of brown robed demons with ugly, scaly, scabby faces shoved through the now gaping doorway behind her, an array of crude weapons clutched in their clawed, knobby fingers. The blonde woman turned to the one nearest her and frowned. "Where's that list again?" The demon handed her a folder and she flipped it open, scanning its contents quickly. She tossed it back to the demon, who fumbled and dropped it. She smiled broadly and raised a manicured, red tipped finger and pointed at Angel, Spike, Xander, and Faith in turn. "This is you all's lucky day. You get to live. As for the rest of you . . ." She shrugged. "Better luck next lifetime."   
  


Angel growled and leapt forward at the same time as Buffy launched a furious attack at the woman. He went after the demon the woman had spoken to, purposely kicking aside the folder it had dropped as he yanked its ax away. He tried his hardest to give Xander a mental shout, noting with satisfaction that the boy had heard when he saw him dart forward and grab the folder, shoving it beneath the pillows of the sofa. Then his face shifted and he threw himself into a fight with the surprisingly weak demons.   
  


He saw a demon raising another smaller ax at him to his right and whirled to avoid it. The move proved unnecessary as Faith swept forward, a flurry of kicks and punches robbing the scaly creature of its weapon and its consciousness.   
  


The demons were downed in barely an instant and they turned as one to back Buffy as the Slayer continued her attack on the mouthy blonde. The woman staggered back only slightly under Buffy's attacks. She seemed to be barely humoring her. Suddenly she reached forward with unnatural speed and grasped Buffy's leg in mid kick. "If it isn't the little guest of honor herself. Tell me honey, how do you think you taste?" The woman twisted Buffy's leg with a sickening crunch and flung her casually backwards.   
  


The Slayer flew halfway across the room, giving a strangled shout of pain as her twisted leg landed and failed to take her weight. She collapsed but struggled quickly back to her feet, favoring her injured leg only slightly. Her voice was slightly high with pain, but she still sounded fierce and angry. "Who are you? What do you want?"   
  


"Call me Glory. And all I want is you." The blonde stepped forward again and hissed in annoyance as Faith and Angel flew at her from behind. She whirled around and blocked both of their attacks with little effort, flinging them casually aside. "Don't tempt me you two. Or I may have to kill you after all." She took another step forward, he eyes on the Slayer, who glanced desperately around for a weapon.   
  


"Buffy!" The Slayer glanced at Spike in time to see the vampire throw her the ax Angel had taken from the demon. Buffy caught it neatly and advanced on the blonde, the vampire mirroring her movements from the other side. Buffy saw Xander and Gunn slinking toward the woman's left side and sent him a mental order to stop. He ignored it and crept forward again.   
  


"Oh Please! Pathetic little humans and a bleached blonde vampire. This isn't any of your business little ones. How completely pathetic. The things I have to do to find one silly little key. Run along and play." She spun in a circle, her arms and legs lashing out, crashing into all three with stunning force. They flew briefly and then dropped, stunned and disoriented. The blonde gave Cordelia, who hung back, her arms bristling with weapons she'd grabbed from behind the desk, a smirk. "You want to try now girl?" Cordelia glanced at her uncertainly. Her hands grasping the hilt of a small double bladed battle ax as she let the rest of her weapons drop to the floor with a clang and clatter of metal and wood.   
  


Buffy took the decision from her, springing forward at the blonde again, her own, large ax upraised and swinging. The blonde staggered backward, but caught the ax in an impossibly strong hand, yanking it away from the stunned Slayer and throwing it violently away. She punched Buffy hard in the face. The Slayer fell back, shaking her head to clear it. Glory picked her up bodily and hurled her into the reception desk. It exploded in a shower of wooden splinters as Buffy hissed in pain. Glory smiled again. "Now little Slayer. It's time to test a theory." She reached forward and grasped Buffy by the shoulders, hauling her to her feet. She released her grip and gripped Buffy's head with both hands as a halo of light began to glow around her hands.   
  


Suddenly a sharp twang sounded. Glory shrieked in pain mixed with annoyance and released Buffy. She turned around to glare at the three who stood there, weapons raised, one hand reaching behind her to pull out the crossbow dart that had struck her. "You guys are really cramping my style. And that hurt. This dress is probably ruined you know."   
  


"You're breaking our hearts luv." Spike grinned as he fingered the ax he held. Cordelia smirked in the background as she tossed aside the now useless crossbow. Angel and Faith stood beside Spike, each with weapons and grim, though bloodied faces.   
  


Glory smiled. "Didn't anyone tell you to play with people your own size?" She reached forward, her hands blurred as they moved and gripped Spike by his shoulders. They all heard the painful cracking of bones as her hands closed. Angel, Faith, and Buffy all came at her, but she shrugged them all away with disturbing ease, still holding onto Spike with one hand.   
  


The dangling vampire's eyes were tearing with pain, but he ignored it, and swung the ax he still held. The blade bit deeply into Glory's waist and the blonde gave a sharp, angry cry of pain, flinging Spike across the room with another crunch of bones and cry of pain. Blood ran down her side and from her back. She backed away now, her eyes angry, but slightly wary. "This SO isn't over." She moved, limping slightly toward the door, kicking her prone demon minions on the way out, most of which were only now begining to drag themselves to their feet. The ones that were still alive. Three of them weren't that lucky.   
  


Glory turned back with a slight smile as her demons lurched between her and the hotel's defenders. She glanced at Buffy. "Don't worry baby. I'll be back to play another day." She swept out the door, her strident voice carrying back to them. "Come on Boys. I'll punish you later. Right now I'm in pain and in need of a meal. I HATE this world."   
  


Angel rushed forward to follow her, only to find two sets of hands on his shoulders, holding him back. Cordelia and Buffy both glared at him, the blonde Slayer speaking for them. "You saw how Spike did one on one with her. You think you'll do better? You can't go after her."   
  


He glared at Buffy. "You can't either. You're hurt."   
  


Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, Gunn an instant behind her. Buffy and Angel both a second shook their heads. Buffy spoke first. "Not a chance you two. Or you, either." She directed the last to a pale and shaking Xander, who'd just regained his feet. "You saw what happened to the members of the party with super powers. You guys are not going after her to get killed."   
  


"I'll go." Faith started toward the door, her steps hurried.   
  


"Faith! Wait."   
  


The dark haired Slayer turned and gave a quick smile. "Five by five B. Preordained duty and all. I'll be fine."   
  


"Just follow. Don't attack unless you're sure you can take her out all the way. She's too strong. And I'm coming too." Buffy hobbled forward, wincing as her leg nearly gave out beneath her, Angel catching her before she fell.   
  


Faith shook her head. "Don't think so girl. Catch ya later." She rushed out of the building, a hastily grabbed weapon in each hand, and disappeared into the night.   
  


Buffy pulled away, determined to follow the other Slayer, Angel held her tightly, shaking his head. "Faith's a Slayer too. She knows what she's doing. You wouldn't be a help right now, you'd only slow her down and give her something to worry about."   
  


Buffy pulled out of his grip and glared. "You know, you're especially annoying when you're right." She sighed and limped over to where Spike lay, crumpled against the wall. She knelt painfully next to him and tried to move his shoulder into a more comfortable position.   
  


He groaned in response, opening his eyes to glare at her. "You know Slayer, it's ass kickings like these that make me wish you'd stayed back in Sunnydale and left me in peace." He grunted and sat up. "Who the hell was that bloody bint?"   
  


Buffy shook her head. "I don't know. But I think it's safe to say I don't like her." She cocked her head, absently rubbing at the bruises around her throat. "Are you alright?"   
  


He glanced at her for a long moment, then looked away, shrugging, then cursing in pain as the movement shifted his shattered shoulders. When the profanity cleared, he answered, with a hint of his usual grin. "I'll live." She snorted at that. His smile disappeared. "But I still want to know who and what that blonde bitch is."   
  


"We've got someone, and something, here that can tell us both." All eyes turned to Xander, who knelt next to one of the still prone demon bodies. He pushed at it with one hand. "This one's still alive. He's just out cold. And they left this behind." He raised the folder he'd hidden when the demon dropped it.   
  


Buffy hesitated, then turned to Angel and Cordelia. "You got some rope? Chains? A cage? Something to hold him?"   
  


Cordelia nodded. "All of the above." She tilted her head. "Except the cage. Which might be a good idea. Remember how we needed it when Oz . . ." She saw Buffy staring at her impatiently and cleared her throat. "Right. Rope, chains, duct tape, locks. On my way." She scurried up the stairs quickly.   
  


Buffy turned as she felt Angel's dark gaze on her. "What are you going to do?" He seemed to already know, but felt the need to ask anyway.   
  


She squared her shoulders. "I'm going to tie him up so tight he can't get away, leave someone here with a few large weapons and phone to watch him. And then we're going to find Willow and Tara."   
  


He nodded. "This Glory will have to be dealt with too, you know."   
  


"When Willow's safe and Darla and Drusilla are being swept up with a very small dust rag. Then I'll worry about her."   
  


Cordelia reemerged with a clanging of metal, a length of strong nylon cord over her shoulder, and roll of duct tape around her forearm. A series of heavy chains of varying lengths dragged behind her, many ending in thick wrist and ankle clasps, and several large padlocks dangled precariously from her fingers. Gunn and Xander took one look at her, red faced with the effort of dragging the load and wrapped awkwardly in chains and rope, and burst into strained, but irrepressible laughter. She put her hands on her hips awkwardly, ire in her tone. "What is so funny?"   
  


Xander choked off his laugher, but Gunn just grinned. "All you need is a pair of spike heels and a leather jumpsuit and you'll look like a masochist's chain-wearing wet dream."   
  


Cordelia glared. "Thank you Gunn, for reminding me how glad I am I just have visions, and that I don't have to see into the warped and perverted depths of your brain." Xander laughed again at that and she transferred her gaze to him. "And you be quiet mind-reader boy. You're not any better."   
  


Xander bowed low. "Yes Mistress of Pain. I wouldn't want you to have to SPANK me." He leered comically at her and she made incoherent sounds of frustration.   
  


Spike, still sitting against the wall, a lit and somewhat flattened cigarette dangling from his mouth gave, Cordelia a long look. "Can't blame him luv. It's not a bad mental image to have."   
  


She made a face. "Please shut up now." She turned to Buffy, forcing her face into a smile. Take your pick. Chains and rope and a roll of duct tape, and some locks I don't have a key to. We have a lock cutter thingy if we have to let him loose for any reason though."   
  


Buffy limped over and lifted the demon up, ignoring the blood trickling from a cut on his head. She tossed him into Gunn's abandoned seat and took the cord and tape from Cordelia. She began a quick but impressively thorough task of binding the robed creature into the chair so tightly his blood would have to work to circulate properly. She then wheeled him over to one of the huge circular support beams in the center of the room and began wrapping lengths of chains around them, testing them with her supernatural strength for sturdiness.   
  


Angel followed her over to the beams and watched her in silence for a long moment, then spoke cautiously. "Don't you think that's a bit of an overkill?"   
  


She glanced at him, and he saw a look of regretful sadness in her eyes. "No." With that she stepped forward and, with a speed she hadn't quite possessed in life, clasped two of the already secured chains to his wrists, quickly securing them with two of the padlocks.   
  


He jumped backwards, but was too slow, her actions stunning him into sluggishness. A chorus of cries arose from the others in the room, with the noteable exception of Spike, who only smiled a bit, and Xander, who shook his head sadly. But Angel's was the only voice she heard and responded to. "Buffy! What are you doing?!" He sounded both angry and hurt.   
  


She sighed. "I'm sorry Angel. You heard Cordelia's vision. If Darla makes Will do that spell before we get there, Angelus will be back. Then my only option will be kill or be killed. And if you get away, people will die. People I love. You know what happens. I can't risk it. This way if it happens, you'll be here, contained and helpless. We'll free Willow, she can do the spell to give your soul back again and no one will be hurt. I don't have any choice."   
  


"Buffy, we'll stop them before they do the spell. Don't do this. You'll need me." He strained against the chains but it was useless. They were well secured and the beams was massive and strong.   
  


"Will I? We both know you've never been able to kill Drusilla before. You're too close to her, too entwined with her. And Darla . . . You killed her once Angel. Do you really think you can do it again? After you saw her with her heart beating? After you saw her with a soul? If you could have done it, you would have already." She sighed. "I'm sorry Angel. But this is the only solution, and I haven't needed you for a long time now. We both know that."   
  


He shook his head, fury and deep hurt in his eyes. "You're wrong."   
  


"I hope not." She turned and faced the angry, bewildered faces of Cordelia and Gunn, and the resigned but not altogether approving stare of Xander. She raised her voice, her eyes hard. "You all heard me. This is the way it's going to be. Xander's going to stay here and watch them, and research on Glory. Whoever she, whatever she. Read through that folder, interrogate the demon when he wakes up. Cordelia, you stay and help. If for any reason you release Angel, make sure you realize that you might be letting one of the worst enemies we ever had to deal with. You remember Cordelia, Xander. You know what we went through. Maybe this is unnecessary, but do you really want to take a chance?"   
  


Cordelia bit her lip and shook her head, avoiding Angel's harsh gaze. "I'm sorry Angel. You're my boss and my friend, but I don't want to wait and see what happens. She's right."   
  


Buffy turned to Xander. "Will you stay here?"   
  


He shook his head defiantly. "No. I can help. I can find her. I'll hear her thoughts before any of you smell or see or feel any trace of her. You need me. Cordelia can stay here. She won't let Angel loose."   
  


Buffy sighed and looked at Gunn and Spike. "And you two? Will you come help us? You know this city Gunn, we need you. And Spike. . ." She stared at the blonde vampire, seeing his uncertainty. "If you can't do this, then don't come. Stay here, away from her."   
  


He looked up, met her eyes. He imagined Drusilla, imagined making that decision, shoving that stake through her heart. He'd made that choice once, in the heat of a battle. He wasn't sure he could do it again. Darla he could kill. The blonde bitch had always looked down on him, even when the four of them tripped about Europe together. He imagined standing there, imagined watching as Buffy drove a piece of wood through Drusilla's heart. A part of him screamed in grief as he imagined her death, imagined her bursting into dust, another notch on Buffy's impressive record.   
  


But then he imagined her winning. Imagined Dru's fangs in Buffy's neck, imagined Darla snapping Red's neck like a twig, imagined Angelus, rolling around the city on a wave of blood. Above all, he imagined Buffy dead. And his decision was made. He looked up at Buffy, and his indecision was gone, his face assured. "I'm with you luv. Time to bury the past, get on with life and all."   
  


Buffy spared him a brief, heartfelt smile, then turned her attention to Gunn. The young man glanced uncertainly between her and the angrily reticent Angel. "Angel? What do you want me to do man? I work for you, I work WITH you. This Ex of yours comes rolling into town and suddenly everyone's beat to all hell and you're in chains. It's up to you, man. Tell me what to do."   
  


Angel's jaw was tight, and he looked away, staring silently into the distance. A long, tense moment passed, and when he spoke his voice barely sounded like his own. "Go. Help her. Find them."   
  


Gunn hesitated, then nodded. Buffy quickly finished securing the demon's chair to the beam on the opposite side of Angel, then stepped forward, two more chains in her hands. She glanced at Angel uncertainly, but he stared steadily back at her. "Go ahead. You went this far, might as well satisfy yourself that I'm not going anywhere." She nodded and secured the extra chains around the post and fastened them to his ankles and locked them, tugging carefully on all four chains to make sure they would hold.   
  


She glanced up and their eyes met, hers full of sorrow, his filled with betrayed anger. She tried once more. "I'm sorry Angel."   
  


"I know." He didn't soften. "But that doesn't fix this."   
  


She stepped away, wincing again at the pain in her leg. and looked at Cordelia. "Cordy, find us two pints of blood please. If you know where it is."   
  


She nodded, "In the big frig in the kitchen." She hurried away and returned a moment later, offering Buffy the small plastic containers.   
  


The Slayer took one and tossed the other to Spike, who caught it handily and bit into it, his face changing as he drank. He drained it in an instant. Gunn watched in sickened fascination. "I ain't never watched them eat before. Not like that . . . it's just nasty man."   
  


Spike lurched to his feet, his face still shifted into its more demonic visage. "Little bit of a lightweight, aren't ya mate?"   
  


Gunn glared and turned back to Buffy. The Slayer held the packet in her hand, staring at it distastefully. She saw them watching her and turned away, her expression ashamed. She walked away, pain in every step and willed her face to shift.   
  


The change was slow in coming. When finally it happened, she squinted her eyes shut and quickly, before she had time to change her mind, bit through the plastic. She quickly began gulping the liquid that flowed and squished out, its chilled state giving it a sickeningly thick, squishy consistency. Her gorge rose at the thought, but she forced it down and swallowed.   
  


It tasted like nothing she'd imagined. Bitter and sweet all at once, it felt rich and metallic on her tongue as it ran down her throat. Without realizing it, she drained the packet. She opened her eyes and pulled the empty container away, staring at it in amazement. She felt her leg knitting back together, felt the bruises and pains disappearing from her abused body. She felt energetic and strong, like she'd drunk a thousand cups of coffee and gone on a strict diet of Hershey bars and Jolt Cola. She whirled around and saw Cordelia and Gunn's sickened expression. She saw the slight revulsion on Xander's face, and her heart fell a bit. Even Angel stared at her, his angry eyes tinted with shades of disgust.   
  


Only Spike smiled at her. And in that moment, she dropped the last walls between them and in her heart, she called him her friend. She smiled back and glanced at the three that were coming with her. "Let's go."   
  


They started toward the door when Cordelia halted them. "Hold on! Wait." She hurried forward and pushed several stakes into each of their hands, along with a vial or two of holy water and a couple of crosses. "Oh! And take this." She pushed a small, sleek blue cell phone into Xander's hand. "DO NOT lose that. I just got it, and it will cost Angel $78.50 to replace it." Angel made a choking sound of protest behind her, but she ignored it. "Take it, I'll have Faith call you when she gets back so she can come and meet you. Or I'll call if I find something." She smiled nervously. "Good luck. Be safe. Find Willow and Tara and kill the bitches that took them." She hugged each of them quickly, hesitating when she came to Spike, then shrugging. "Oh, what the hell." She hugged him too.   
  


"Ow ow ow. Bloody hell woman. Broken shoulder, remember?" Spike gave her a half-hearted glare.   
  


She smiled. "Sorry." As they left, promising to be careful, she turned to her boss, miserable and chained. She stepped forward and hugged him, too." "I'm sorry Angel. I'm just so afraid of what you can become. More afraid than Buffy even."   
  


He looked startled at that, then smiled. It was tense and full of resentment, but it was genuine. "It's alright Cordy. Why don't you get on the computer and start searching for Glory? I'll look through that folder she left behind."   
  


"Okay."   
  


Angel glanced toward the departing group. Buffy was the last one out the door, he raised his voice so she could hear. "Buffy!" She paused and spun to face him, uncertainty in every line of her body. He forced a smile. "Be careful."   
  


She smiled then, the expression blinding. "I will." She paused for a moment, and when she spoke her voice was quiet. "When I said I didn't need you anymore, it didn't mean that I didn't still want you. I'll always want you with me. In more ways than a dozen. But I do what I have to. I always have. It's my job. Sometimes, it seems like it's everyone who cares about me's job to forgive me for the things I did when I did that job. For what it's worth, I'm sorry." And then she was gone. 

He sighed and turned to Cordelia, who held out the folder in offering. He took it with an awkward rattle of chains.   
  


She surveyed his awkward position doubtfully. "Want me to push a chair over here and see if you can sit down?"   
  


He glanced at the chains and then at the love seat, just out of the chains reach and nodded. "If you don't mind."   
  


She smiled. "Sure thing." With determined cheerfulness that failed to conceal her anxiety, she pushed the love seat closer. He settled into it with distinct lack of comfort and sighed. It was going to be a long wait.   
  


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	7. Elusive Home

  
  
Part Six: Elusive Home "We all live under the same sky, but we don't all have the same horizon." --Konrad Adenauer (1876-1976)   
  
  
  


She belonged here. Wandering through a dark alley, waiting for the baddies in the shadows just out of sight. This was familiar. This was home.   
  


Home had been an elusive thing for her. Years ago, when she was just another young girl from the side of town they don't show in magazines, she'd had a home. Her father and mother were never married, but he'd stuck around for a while. He'd even done the dad thing, taken her to music classes, to a few movies. They'd gotten along. When he split, with a wave and a farewell, her mom had fallen to pieces. She'd lost her nice cozy job at the bank and started running through a string of jobs. She stopped working to feed herself and her daughter, and starting working to pay for her bottles instead.   
  


She thought of those years though, the early years. She'd had a home then. It wasn't much, block concrete on a street with dozens of houses that looked just the same. But it was home. She came home then and felt like she was in the right place, she was where she was supposed to be. When everything fell apart, she lost that feeling as they moved from one crummy, burned out apartment to the next, one step ahead of the landlords.   
  


She'd stayed in school for a while. Not so much because she thought she should, but because it was something to do, somewhere concrete to be. She'd started leading a double life by Junior High. By day, she sang in the choir and passed her classes with a solid C average. Her music teacher urged her to take lessons, to sing solos, and her regular teachers urged her to live up to her potential. She did neither. She coasted by. And at night, she put it all aside. At night she roamed the streets because they seemed less dark than the walls of their current hole in the wall. The boys found her early, and she got to know them well. Faith set the rules, she led them where she wanted them to go. 

And when they didn't walk the path she set for them, she learned to defend herself. It came easily, naturally to her. She felt at home when she fought, and she reveled in the feeling. She sought them out, the bad boys and girls who preyed on the weaklings. She would stop them, wondering where the skill to do so came from, and then leave, not waiting for a word of thanks from the people she helped. She didn't want gratitude, she wanted purpose, distraction. She wanted a reason to exist aside from the drunken woman at home and the gray walls she lived in.   
  


By ninth grade she'd left home and school. Her mother had crawled into a bottle and never come back out, and Faith had left her, and the half-life she'd carved out for herself, behind. She never knew where she was going, she just went there. During what should have been her junior year, someone had caught up with her. She'd shown her a new world. The world she'd shown the newly called Slayer was ugly and brutal and filled with things that no one but her could see. But she was the master of it. The Chosen One. One girl in all the world. She had a destiny, she had a purpose. She had a home.   
  


The dark streets, the wooden stakes and bladed weapons, the pounding heartbeat, the fight, the ashes. This was her home. She'd forgotten that for a long time. Starting from when her Watcher had been killed.. She had gotten used to having the woman around. She wasn't alone in the world anymore. Her Watcher was part of her world, part of her home. When the woman had died, Faith had fled to the only place she could think of. She'd gone to Sunnydale, where her Watcher had told her there was another girl like her. Another Slayer who made her home in the hunt, like Faith. She went to find Buffy Summers, and to maybe find another person to share her home with. She'd gone to Sunnydale to see if she could finally find a place where she wasn't alone.   
  


But nothing went as planned. Knowing and seeing were two different things. Seeing Buffy, seeing her fight and win surrounded by people who loved her, Faith had grown angry. She'd been suddenly faced with the fact that she wasn't The Chosen One. She was one of the Chosen Two. And in the eyes off all those people, she was the lesser of the two. Buffy had everything she could ever have wanted, the same purpose and mission in life as Faith plus friends, family, loved ones. The life of a Slayer was a job to Buffy, not a home. She already had a home full of people that loved her and comfortable feelings of belonging. And they all loved her. Even with their complex and arduous past, Angel had loved Buffy. No one had ever loved Faith, not like that. Not enough. She'd envied Buffy the life she'd made for herself, and the love in her life.   
  


She had let her envy rule her and it had led her far from the path she'd stepped onto all those years ago. It had earned her near death from the one person she loved, and hated, most in the world- Buffy. Her sister in more than blood, the only one who knew what it was like, Buffy had killed her. That she didn't die was immaterial. She had killed the Faith that lived up to that point. When she'd woken from that Coma, she was different. It took her a long time to realize it, and she'd again hurt many people before it was over. But when it was done, she was locked away, paying for her actions. She was at peace with her decision, if not her crimes. But she wasn't at home. She hadn't been at home since the day she'd thrown in the towel on a Slayer's life and hitched her wagon to the Mayor. 

Now, in this dark street, weapons in each hand, footsteps silent as she listened for sounds the rest of the world couldn't hear, Faith was home again. And the confusion and fear that had been with her since she'd left the claustrophobic sanity of her prison was fading away. There were so many questions she was afraid to ask, things that the rest of them seemed to know. And to see Buffy, the strongest person she'd ever met, sitting there with the cold, dead skin of a vampire had thrown her for more of a loop than she'd imagined was possible. She'd dreaded seeing her again. Feared the hate and condemnation in the other girl's eyes. And as she'd listened to them talking around her, her mind had struggled to grasp what had happened to her fellow Slayer. And she was afraid to ask. Because she didn't want to know. Because if she knew, there might have been a way she could have stopped it, if only she was there, with Buffy, where she was supposed to be. But, Buffy had fought the good fight alone and paid a dear price for it.   
  


And Xander. Faith remembered more of their single lurid encounter than she cared to. And he had changed. They looked to him now, he knew things. He was self assured and older. He'd watched her like he could see inside her, see everything she was. She'd barely listened to them until Buffy had drawn her into the conversation, but she'd heard enough to know that it might be true. She was afraid to ask, afraid to draw attention. She was awkward, out of place. She didn't belong with them. She was just another ill fitting piece of the puzzle that was their lives. Looking at them, with their lives and assurance and love for one another, she wasn't sure she could ever be that. But she wanted it.   
  


And that frightened her more than anything. It had been so long since she'd wanted anything. The last time, she had wanted to be Buffy, to have what she had. And that wanting had turned her into a monster. What she wanted now was more abstract, but it was also the same. A life, friends, love. She wanted someone to cry for her when, like all Slayers must, she died. Looking around that room where she felt so out of place, she'd realized that she didn't want to be out of place. She wanted to belong. She wanted to be one of them. Since the day her mother died, there had been nothing she wanted badly enough that she couldn't walk away from it if she chose. But she couldn't walk away from them. Any of them.   
  


She didn't belong. But she would. If she lived long enough. Buffy had smiled at her. It was small, as olive branches go, but it was more than she deserved. And Faith was ready to take it. She would prove to B that she was ready to be out, and that she was one of them. The good guys, the white hats, she was a soldier. To hell with The Host. She'd chosen her side and would play for her team.   
  


Faith smiled to herself and moved with renewed vigor down the street. She could hear them up ahead. Her hurried steps became a dead run as she heard a shrill scream, quickly echoed by one, then another voice.   
  


She rounded the corner and stared into the windows of a small coffee shop. The group of demons hovered outside the doors while the blonde woman stood inside. Faith watched in stunned horror as she hurled a young woman away from her. The woman was alive, but her head lolled on her shoulders and her eyes were vacant. Her eyes flew back to Glory as the blonde woman grasped another person, a young man. She pushed him against the walls and raised her hands to his head. Her fingers started to glow as they sank through his head. He screamed, his face contorting in pain. After a moment he slumped and Glory staggered back. She smiled and stretched luxuriously and her voice floated through the open doors to Faith. "Oh yeah. That hits the spot. Feeling much better now." She pointed to the third occupant of the coffeehouse, an older man, his eyes wide with terror. "Bring him for later. I might need a little snackypoo."   
  


Suddenly Glory spun around and through the glass her eyes met Faith's. A wide smile stretched across her face. "If it isn't the breathing Slayer. Like what you see honey? Or are you just window shopping?" She thrust her arm through the glass and her hand closed like a vice around the Slayer's throat.   
  


Faith choked and stared in horror at the hole where Spike's ax had bitten through Glory's dress. No wound. She was healed, and back to full strength. Faith braced her feet against the metal beams along the edge of the windows and pushed herself violently away, tearing out of Glory's grasp. She stood, hesitating as the blonde woman grinned. Then she turned and ran. She heard Glory's voice floating after her. "Run away little Slayer. It's not you I need to catch up to anyway."   
  


Faith ran all the way back to the hotel, her lungs burning by the time she got there. She hadn't realized how far she'd wandered. She burst through the doorway, barely avoiding the broken doors, and skidded to a stop, confusion battling with aghast horror on her face as she saw Angel, firmly chained to a pillar, perching uncomfortably on a love seat, his nose buried in the folder Glory's demon had dropped.   
  


He looked up at her, surprise and shame on his face. She whirled around looking for an enemy. He shook his head at her. "Faith. It's okay. It was Buffy. She put me here."   
  


Faith's eyebrows shot up. "You two are kinkier than I thought. You must have been taking lessons from that Spike guy."   
  


Angel opened his mouth to answer, but Cordelia's voice floated out from behind the desk first. "Actually, Spike probably took lessons from him." She shot Angel a slightly abashed look as he growled faintly. "Well, back when he was mean bad Angel, of course."   
  


Faith shook her head, making her way toward Angel. "What's going on?" She started looking for weaknesses in the chains, suspecting there wouldn't be any. B was nothing if not thorough.   
  


Angel looked stubbornly away, so Faith looked to Cordelia and the girl hurriedly explained. "Darla's planning to force Willow to cast that spell that brings back Angelus. Buffy was afraid that they would cast it before she got there, and poof, Angelus makes his grand entrance. So she made sure that if that did happen, it wouldn't matter. Angel can't get out of there, and neither can Angelus. She rescues Willow and Tara, kills Darla and Dru, and then Angel gets loose and we all go after that blonde bitch. Unless you killed her? Which would be really good."   
  


Faith shook her head. "She's alive and kicking and fully healed. And apparently, she wants to suck Buffy's brain out or something. So Angelus or no, I think we have to let Angel out of those chains, in case she comes back."   
  


Cordelia shook her head emphatically. "She won't come back here. Why would she? She'd go after Buffy. And what do you mean suck out her brain?"   
  


"How's she gonna know where B went? Far as she knows, B's still here all injured." Faith held out her hand. "Come on. We gotta get him outta here. Where's the key?"   
  


Cordelia looked away, obviously unhappy. Faith glanced at Angel who sighed. "We don't have one." He leveled his gaze at Faith. "What do you mean suck out Buffy's brain?"   
  


Faith shook her head. "You let her tie you up with big, metal, inescapable chains you don't have a key for?" Angel muttered something beneath his breath. Faith grinned. "What was that?"   
  


He turned and glared at her. "I said she didn't actually give me a whole lot of choice. Now, for the third time and we're not answering or doing anything else till you tell me, what did you mean about Buffy?"   
  


She sighed. "I don't know. She said in here that she couldn't kill some of us, and that she wanted Buffy. When she was holding Buffy, she started to put her hands on her head and they . . glowed or something. I saw her do that again. Only this time, she didn't get stopped." Her face was pale. "Half of her hand just disappeared into this guy's head and he lit up like a Christmas tree, started screaming and twisting around. When she pulled her hands out, she was all healed, and he just lay there. And there was . . .no one home. Ya know?" Seeing their blank look, she shrugged. "You know? A light's on but nobody's home? He looked empty, vacant. Brain Sucked." Faith tugged again, fruitlessly at the chains, she glanced from the chains to Angel, pondering whether their combined efforts would snap the metal links. Finally she shook her head. "Don't think we can break these."   
  


"Why would she want to do that to Buffy?" Cordelia pointed toward the large, heavy padlocks holding them closed. "Not that I'm condoning this, but what about those? Can you break those?"   
  


"I don't know why. If she wants a Slayer, why not either one of us?" Faith examined them closely. "Don't think so. Don't you have lock cutters or something?" She backed away slightly. 

Cordelia hesitated. "Ye-ah . . ."   
  


"Yeah, BUT?"   
  


"But I don't know where. I can look, but it's going to take a while.'   
  


Angel's voice came low. "A vampire." Faith turned to face him as Cordelia frowned in puzzlement. He scowled, though the expression was obviously not meant for them. "She wants Buffy because she's a vampire. She must need one who's a Slayer and a vampire. But why? If she's an energy feeder, then they can't get anything from a vampire. We have negative energy."   
  


"I don't know. But I'm guessing it's not going to be a good thing if she gets her." Faith turned so she could see the door and Angel at the same time. "What do you wanna do Big Guy? I'm running low on ideas."   
  


He nodded toward the desk. "Call Buffy. Find out where they are, and go help. We'll be fine here. Glory won't kill me, if she comes back. And Cordy knows her way through the sewers. She can get away."   
  


The Slayer frowned unhappily. "Wouldn't that be like handing her a hostage on a stick? Complete with a side order of Queen Cordelia, if she runs for those sewers a step too slow?"   
  


"I don't think she'll come back anyway. She'll assume we ran for it."   
  


"And if we had any sense, we would have." Faith snorted. "What was Buff thinking of? Chaining you out in the middle of the room? Blonde Bitch-monster aside, what if she's not back by daylight?"   
  


Cordy nodded toward the windows. "I can cover them."   
  


Faith sighed and walked to the desk. "What's the number?" Cordelia told her and the Slayer dialed. A long moment passed and they heard Xander's voice faintly on the other end. Faith wasted no time on hello. "Where are you?"   
  


"On 8th St. Heading for the old part of town. Gunn says there's lots of dark warehouses and a coupla old churches vamps like to hide in. You know how to get there?" Xander's voice came clearly to Angel with his heightened senses. Cordelia heard it less clearly, but still heard, since her head was pushed up against the other side of the phone, to Faith's obvious annoyance.   
  


"On my way. Bye." Xander echoed her terse farewell and Faith slammed the phone down, wincing guiltily as she heard the faint crunching sound and saw a series of cracks appear along the phone's front. She waved at the phone and gave Angel a half-smile. "Put it on my tab?"   
  


He grunted, but nodded toward the door again. "Go. Hurry."   
  


She hesitated. "You know what this means don't you?" He stared at her, obviously not understanding. She reached onto the middle of the desk and picked up a set of keys, dangling them from her fingers. Angel groaned miserably as comprehension dawned. Faith grinned. "They took the Giles-mobile Angel. Which I was fairly impressed by. Didn't think the guy had a red sports car in him. But that only leaves one way for me to get there."   
  


He shook his head miserably. "Fine. Just take it." Cordelia walked over and patted his shoulder comfortingly.   
  


Faith smiled again. She raised one hand as if gripping an invisible car wheel and made an incomprehensible gesture with her right hand. "This is like, first gear right? Like this?"   
  


Angel's expression sunk into deeper shades of discomfort and the Slayer laughed. "It's okay Big Guy. I know how to drive a manual." Faith walked to the counter where the abandoned crossbow still lay. She picked it up and smiled at Cordelia. "Got any more of those arrows?" Wordlessly, Cordelia reached beneath the desk, pulling out a duffel bag full of weapons, including a few crossbow bolts. "Thanks. You two be careful. Play nice." With that, Faith disappeared out the doors, twirling the keys around her fingers as she moved, the duffel bag slung over her shoulder.   
  


Angel pounded his head several times back against the pillar. "It's not going to have a transmission when I get it back."   
  


Cordelia smiled. "It'll be fine. Trust me, if there's a girl that knows her way around a stick, it's bound to be Faith." Angel choked and looked at her, a faint half smile on his face, his eyebrows upraised. Cordy shrugged. "Well, it's true. The girl isn't exactly the Virgin Mary." She frowned. "Did that folder tell you anything about why she wants Buffy? Or why she doesn't want the rest of you dead?"   
  


Angel shook his head. "No. It just says who and what each of us are and what the status is, whether we're supposed to live or die. It does tell us one thing though." He closed the folder and showed her the back. Stamped on it in faded ink were the words "Property of Wolfram & Hart." He started to say something when a groan from behind him interrupted. He moved as far as his bonds would allow and saw the demon moving slightly, eyes fluttering as it groaned in obvious pain. He turned to Cordy. "Our guest is awake."   
  


Cordelia hid the fear that had arisen when she saw the stamp on the folder and put on a bright voice. "Ohh! Interrogation time. Can I play bad cop? I can be totally intimidating." She paused considering. "But I doubt you could pull off the good cop angle, so I guess I'll have to be nice and you be nasty. I think you can handle that."   
  


Angel adjusted his love seat so he could see the demon as well as possible, and went along with her game. As she hurried over, a yellow legal pad, pen, and knife in her hands, he reflected that it was a good thing the demon was within reaching distance for him. A chained vampire who couldn't get close enough to threaten you wasn't very intimidating. And he wasn't at all certain Cordelia could have done a decent Bad Cop routine. He smiled as she approached. "I could have been good cop. But there's no way you can be frightening."   
  


Cordelia snorted at that. "Ask the fashion challenged graduates of Sunnydale High if Cordelia Chase can be scary. I'm sure Willow can tell you a thing or two about it." Her face saddened at mention of the redheaded witch and she quickly switched topics. "Shall we wake him up or wait till he comes all the way around on his own?"   
  


Angel considered briefly, then smiled. It was not a healthy expression. "We wake him up." He pulled his hand back and slapped the demon hard across the face, snapping its face around.   
  


Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I see we went to the Bitch-Slap school of interrogation techniques."   
  


Angel smiled again, the expression filled with malicious enjoyment. The now wide awake demon stared at him, his body trembling slightly. "That wasn't the interrogation. That was just a friendly little wake up."   
  


Cordelia spoke earnestly. "You don't want to see him when he's not friendly. Trust me." She had, obviously, seen too many cop movies.   
  


The demon gulped and looked wildly around. "I'll not say anything against the great and mighty Glorificus."   
  


Angel slowly stood, towering over the seated demon. "We'll just see about that."   
  


Cordelia leaned close to the scaly creature, her voice hushed and low. "Be careful. There's a good reason we keep him chained up."   
  


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The black car crept slowly along the dark, narrow streets, it's driver looking about alertly for a sign of those she sought, or a glimpse of their cherry red sports car. She found the car first and parked alongside it. Turning off her own ignition and pocketing the keys she paused a moment to examine the two convertibles. It was not a good neighborhood to leave cars like these unattended. She smiled to herself. Oh well, for the greater good and all. She slung the bag of weapons over her shoulder and set off down the street.   
  


She jogged down the cracked sidewalks, dodging strewn garbage cans and trash as she let her instincts guide her, listening for sounds of Buffy and her group as she moved in the direction she sensed they'd gone in. Suddenly a faint tingle ran down her spine. It was an odd feeling, one she didn't immediately recognize. She turned in a slow circle, her eyes searching the streets around her. Her eyes settled on the darkness of the alley she had just passed. Its narrow shadowed space seemed to be hiding nothing, but Faith knew that appearances were deceiving, and trusted her instincts. She pulled a stake and an ax from the bag and then dropped it, facing the alley squarely. She stared hard at the alley. "Knock, knock? Look, whoever's there I know about you. If you're going to come out and play, could you move it along? Places to go, people to see and all."   
  


The alley itself, unsurprisingly, didn't respond. Faith shifted impatiently, wondering whether instincts were turning into paranoia in her old age. Suddenly, her eyes watered as a flash of light burned in front of them. She blinked, wiping the tears quickly away and stared. A child stood in the dark alley. She was dressed in long white robes and the gray hair of an old woman flowed down her back. She stared up at Faith with an utterly emotionless, inhuman gaze. Faith swallowed and took an involuntary step back. There was an aura around the child. Something ageless . . . it felt like . . .like nothing. Like the child was simply a void with a face. Her small face, pale pupil less eyes staring into Faith's face without blinking, unnerved the Slayer. The child spoke, and her voice held the echo of untold ages. "You are the Slayer?" It was more a statement than a question, as if the affirmation was more for Faith's benefit than the child's.   
  


Faith cleared her throat and answered. "I am." She knew, without question, that the girl knew how she was. She saw no reason to lie.   
  


The girl nodded. "Then listen and carry what I say back to those who fight with you. The one you fight is the Goddess, Glorificus. She once reigned supreme in a demon realm far from your world. She was cast out by those who ruled beside her, and relegated to this world, and to a human form. She wishes to return to her world. There is only one Key in this dimension that can open the gate to her world, and I alone know where it is. I owe a debt beyond your imagination to those you know only as Wolfram & Hart. If Glorificus performs the task that Wolfram & Hart have set for her, I will be forced to reveal the location of the Key, and the Gate between the worlds will open." The child paused, then spoke again. "If the Gate is opened, it can never again be closed. The realms will merge, and your world will be consumed by the other. Everything and everyone you know and love will be destroyed."   
  


Faith swallowed. "What can we do to stop her?"   
  


The child shook her head. "I do not know. I bring you warning. It is all I can do. It is more than I should do."   
  


"Where is the Key? If we destroy it, she'll be stuck here right?"   
  


The child hesitated. "The Key is hidden in a flesh form. It dwells within one well loved by those who fight with you. To destroy it would be to kill one innocent of any crime. The side you fight for would not approve." She hesitated again, then spoke with a sigh. "Glorificus is housed in a mortal form. She grows weaker the longer she remains in this realm. In time, she will no longer be able to return to her world."   
  


Faith frowned in frustration. "Why did Wolfram & Hart ask her to go after Buffy? That is her task right? To kill Buffy?"   
  


"I do not know. I know only my own role in this. It is a role I would rather not play. You are the chosen of the other side, you and those with you. I leave it to you to stop. Be warned, if you fail I will have no choice but to open the Gate. You must stop her before she finds the Key."   
  


Frustration turned to despair as Faith shook her head. "She's so strong, and you're not giving me any help."   
  


"She must find the Key before the next turn of the moon on this world, or she will be stranded here, in flesh form, for all time."   
  


Faith brightened. "Then we'll just hide the Key thing until then. That would work, right?"   
  


"I cannot tell you what to do, only what will happen if you fail. I have said all I can." With that, the odd child was gone.   
  


Faith glared at the spot where she had been. "But WHO IS THE KEY, damn cryptic toddler?" With the odd child gone, Faith felt her courage and irritation grow in sudden leaps and bounds. The child had given her a severe case of what her mother had once referred to as "The Willies", but had given her next to nothing in the form of actual helpful information. Faith had already known that Glorificus had a serious jones for Buffy's brain, and that they had to stop her somewhere. All the girl had given her, really, was a timetable. Which, if she felt like acknowledging it, was helpful. The fact that the Goddess had been contracted by Wolfram & Hart was hardly surprising. All dark, evil, smelly paths in this city seemed to lead back to them eventually. Their hands must be awfully full with all those reins they were juggling.   
  


She cursed faintly to herself as she took stock of her situation and gathered her bag again. The instinct that had led her toward Buffy and the others was gone now, and she hadn't a clue where they were. She looked around for a payphone to dial up their cell again, but didn't see one anywhere near. A glint of movement caught her eye. She turned slowly, carefully keeping to the shadows to see what had grabbed her attention.   
  


A man moved quickly down the street with the exaggerated movements of one who was trying to be stealthy but sucked at it. She studied him for another moment taking in the bumpy fanged face, then changed her assessment. Not a man, a vampire. And from his lack of initiation into the great vampiric art of Skulking, a young one. He seemed out of place though. His clothes were that of a teenager, one who knew nothing about fashion. He was gawky and bespectacled. He looked like a computer nerd wearing a monster face. Not your typical vampire.   
  


Intrigued for a reason she couldn't name, Faith followed him, her own movements quiet and fluid, difficult to detect to any eyes that might be watching. The vampire led her down a few more streets, his nervous eyes never quite seeing her, despite his frequent paranoid glances behind him. Finally he stopped in front of a warehouse, one no different from a dozen others they passed. It's doors were chained shut, but the padlock was unlocked. The vampire pulled open the doors and stepped quickly inside. Faith waited a moment, then stepped up beside him, pushing her ear into the door. She heard faint sounds from inside, but nothing helpful.   
  


She debated a moment, then carefully nudged the door open inch by inch, pausing between each minuscule movement to be sure she wasn't heard. When finally the door was open far enough, she knelt on the ground and carefully wedged her head inside, one hand on the door, prepared to yank her head out and push it closed if she had to.   
  


Voices came clearly now, though she couldn't see who was speaking, as the lights inside were dim and her view of the center of the room was obscured by a mountain of old packing crates. A male voice was speaking now, it was trembling with fear and sounded slightly squeaky. The vampire she'd followed here, Faith guessed. "I'm sorry. I couldn't finish it today. Two more days, that's all I need. I promise."   
  


"You promised us that two days ago, Jeffery. You realize that quite a lot is hinged on your finishing that program? I need those translations Jeffery. Do you know what happens if I don't get what I need? I gave you immortality Jeffy-boy. Don't think I can't take it away . . . slowly and with pain you've never imagined." This voice was female, soft and sugary sweet despite its lethal words. 

"She's promised to let me play with you if you fail. I DO hope you do. It's been so long since I've had a chance to play with anyone who wasn't a screaming, bleeding mortal. They die so quickly. It's hardly any fun." Another female, this one lower and accented. Drusilla, Faith realized with a smile. The other one must be Darla. She couldn't be certain though . . .she had to see if Willow was there.   
  


She edged further inside, carefully scanning around the crates. She saw the vampire she'd followed, a blonde woman next to him. Further back a tall brunette stood, her hands running idly up and down the wall next to her. She turned her head, leaning in as far as she dared. And she saw them. Bound and gagged, Faith could still make out Willow's shock of red hair. She smiled to herself again.   
  


She eased slowly out and turned, making her way at a dead run. She had to find Buffy.   
  


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"Where IS she? She called like an hour ago! Granted, punctuality was never her strong suit, but I figured she'd show up where she was supposed to be her first day back on the job and all." Buffy stared anxiously around her. "We can't wait any longer."   
  


Xander sighed. "We haven't been waiting THIS long. We've been looking. We just haven't found them. Faith not showing up has nothing to do with that." He rubbed his temples in tired frustration. "If only I could hear them."   
  


Gunn began making his way back in the direction they'd come from. He glanced at Xander questioningly. "Could you hear them if they were unconscious?"   
  


"I don't know." He gave a tired smile. "I've never tried before."   
  


Buffy swore softly, earning an appreciative glance from Spike. "This is getting us nowhere. We're just wandering around in a city full of a billion people looking for them." She spun suddenly, her eyes fixing intently on Spike. "Where would she go Spike? Any ideas?"   
  


He blinked in surprise that she would ask him and shook his head. "Not a clue luv. My guess is it's Darla running the show, not my Dru. She always deferred to that blonde bint ya know, called her Grandmother. And Darla . . ." He hesitated. "Darla's not stupid. Make our job easier if she was."   
  


She sighed in defeat. "What should we do?"   
  


They all stared at her for a moment. For Spike and Xander, it was a rare and worrisome occurrence to see Buffy so directionless. Buffy always knew what she wanted to do. It wasn't always the right thing, but it was always something. This uncertainty was out of character for her. Gunn however, didn't know that. He just watched her, his mind spinning through possible options. "Look, this wandering around in the dark knocking down warehouse doors isn't working. Why don't we go back to the hotel, try to do a little research, see if we can dig up something?"   
  


The other three exchanged glances, then looked back toward the young man. Buffy nodded, a sigh escaping her lips. "I haven't got any better ideas." The thought of wasting all that time was galling, but she knew she wasn't getting anywhere right now. They turned and followed Gunn back toward the car.   
  


A short time later they stood in front of the, thankfully, intact red car. Behind it was Angel's black convertible, and leaning against it, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a pleased grin on her face, was Faith. "Where have you guys been? I found 'em. They're holed up in a warehouse about ten minutes from here. Couldn't see the whole building, but it looked like just the two of them, plus a pimply faced teenage vamp they've got doing errands for them. Willow and the blonde are bound, gagged, and blindfolded in the center of the room. Probably drugged too, I didn't see 'em moving at all." She glanced around at the three of them, her smile fading. "You ready?"   
  


"Where have you been? Why didn't you come find us?" Buffy's voice cracked like a whip. It grated on her nerves that Faith had succeeded where she had failed and found Willow. She didn't want to admit to the flash of jealous anger and instead blamed it on the other girl's methods.   
  


"Tried, B. Couldn't find you. Figured I should just wait here for a bit, see if you came back." Faith raised her hands in surrender. "Look, I'm sorry. I've only been here a few minutes. Before that I was running around looking for you." A flash of irritation crossed her features as she took in Buffy's continued angry expression. "At least I found them."   
  


Xander sent Buffy a warning look and the blonde Slayer subsided, her anger turning to sheepish regret. He glanced at the other two and then nodded at Faith. "Lead the way."   
  


The Slayer set out toward the warehouse, the others close behind her. Faith glanced at Buffy and the other Slayer's cold expression sent a chill down her spine. Faith was glad she wasn't fighting opposite the blonde tonight. The new and unnatural paleness of her skin combined with the furious glint in her eyes made her seem fierce and determined.   
  


When they neared the warehouse, Faith withdrew a couple of stakes and a small throwing ax from the bag, then tossed it to Buffy. As the others began divvying up the weapons, Faith quietly drew Spike away from the others and pushed a stake into his hand. Keeping the others in the corner of her eye, Faith turned to the cold creature who stood beside her. He stared at her, his eyes filled with something she couldn't define or understand. When she spoke it was quick and terse. "I had a Watcher once. She told me lots of things I didn't listen to. But once she said something about William the Bloody and Drusilla the Mad. She called you inseparable and devoted."   
  


For just one moment, both of her eyes turned to the vampire. "She almost admired that, said 'such passion was rare in these modern times.'" Her voice held an unmistakable, if not overly skillful imitation of a British accent as she spoke the last. She smiled faintly. "She was an old fashioned kind of gal, it made it hard for us to see anything eye to eye. We spent most of our time arguing." Faith's gaze was distant, but a moment later she came back to the present, her eyes glancing toward the others, who were still preparing. She turned back to Spike, who was still standing silently. "I don't know what's between you and Buffy. I don't know why you're here with us instead of in there with them. I don't know anything that's going on here anymore. But I know two things. The first is that I'm a Slayer, and I was born to kill monsters like you."   
  


Her expression was hard and unwavering as her gaze drilled into his. "The other thing I know is that if you take one extra second in there, one hesitation. If one person gets hurt because you couldn't kill her, then I'll take you out. No remorse, no hesitation, no asking for permission. I'm not Buffy. I don't think things through, I don't always do the right thing. And I don't owe you anything." She turned and began making her way back toward the group, a slight smile on her face. "Except maybe an apology."   
  


He started to speak, to tell her that he wouldn't do anything to hurt Buffy, but she'd moved away. Her hurried to catch up to her and bit off a single, terse question, his voice rough with anger. "An apology for what?"   
  


She shook her head, her smile flashing briefly wider. "You prove to me you've really gone all Angel, and maybe I'll tell you."   
  


Spike shook his head and followed her. "Bitch."   
  


Faith's smile turned to a full fledged grin. "So I've been told."   
  
  
  


******************************************************************************   
  


Darla snarled in frustration, her eyes fixed on the two bound captives. She spoke aloud, not really expecting a response from the dark haired vampire who was currently swaying around the room, forcing a terrified Jeffrey into a terrified and awkward dance. "This is not going according to plan."   
  


Drusilla turned, letting go of Jeffrey so abruptly that the young vampire stumbled, nearly falling. Dru ignored him, smiling vacantly at Darla. "Things so rarely do, grandmother. My Spike was full of plans, so was Daddy. All plans for killing the Slayer, for ending the world . . ." Her voice trailed off as she gave a long, regretful sigh. "All plans stopped. Nothing works as it should."   
  


Darla glared. "It will work Dru. It's just behind schedule is all. Isn't that right Jeffrey?" She sent a furious glance toward him. He stumbled again, nodding emphatically. Darla stopped him before he could speak, tired of his pathetic whining. "Go home Jeffrey. And make those two days into one day. Or I'll be very angry."   
  


"She's quite mean when cross." Drusilla giggled madly.   
  


Jeffrey glanced between the two of them unhappily, obviously wishing for nothing more than his old, mortal life back. "I'll do my best." Darla's face shifted into it's vampire visage, her yellow eyes glowing with fury and he quickly amended that. "I mean I'll get it done. I promise."   
  


The blonde's face shifted back. "You do that." Her voice was sweet and purring now. "And get yourself someone to eat. You look pale as a ghost." She watched with a smile as the young vampire walked to the door, obviously working to keep himself from giving in to his baser instinct and running for it. Her smile faded abruptly when he pulled the door open and promptly exploded into dust. The door was kicked wide open, and in the doorway stood a familiar figure. Darla's face shifted, hatred crossing her monstrous features. "Slayer!" She stepped forward, then hesitated as others came to stand behind the girl, one more than a bit familiar. She wasted no time on wondering, rushing toward the center of the room and the captives there. She yanked a small knife from the table she'd prepared nearby, in case the witches didn't cooperate when the time came for the spell to be performed. She held it to the nearest one's throat, the redhead. She smiled a slow, languorous grin at Buffy. "One step little cheerleader, and there won't be anything left to save."   
  


Buffy stopped her slow progress into the room, waving the others to a halt behind her. They stood in an uncertain fan behind her, their eyes on Darla and her prisoner. Faith's eyes were drawn elsewhere, to the tall dark haired woman in the middle of the room, closer to them than Darla. She stared at Buffy, her dark eyes wide, mouth moving. Faith glanced from her to Spike, who was looking at the woman with an unwavering gaze. Faith glanced back and saw the woman- Drusilla she presumed- was drifting backwards, toward Darla, horror on her face. "Blood gone cold. No heat, no warmth. Like us, but not. Not now. I don't understand . . ." She tilted her head and giggled as she stared at Buffy with wide eyes. "She comes in, but hasn't a white horse. And what's a rescue without a horse, little Slayers? One's blood runs too hot, the other's veins are ice. The hunters and prey, all in one. Scurry, scurry, hurry away. The Queen has come to play to-day."   
  


Darla spared a glance for the other vampire, her eyes furious. "Dru, shut up."   
  


Drusilla hummed a tuneless, monotonous note. "Run and Catch, Run and catch . . ." Darla growled in frustration and Drusilla gave a soft moan. "It's all flowing away. Time and places and memories. All gone. Leaving me alone." Dru suddenly turned and stared at Faith, her eyes wide and, to Faith's surprise, lucid. "It's all going to change you know. They'll leave us behind. We are, after all, only a diversion. A path to dance down that leads back to where they started. Nothing solid, nothing real." She smiled, madness returning to her gaze as the expression crossed her face. Her dark eyes fixed on Spike. "Goodbye from the stars in Darling William's eyes. All alone in my head, and my Spike going away to play in a place no-one can see."   
  


Buffy moved forward and Darla lifted the knife threateningly. "Stupid, not to send someone to the backdoor, Slayer. But then, you never were the brains of the operation, were you?"   
  


Buffy started to move again, but Spike stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Darla, luv, you're not gonna win this one, and you know it. Let us have Red and her girly, and you two can waltz out of her, free and clear." He smiled charmingly at Drusilla. "Dru baby, come on. You're smart enough to know when you're beat, my girl. Don't make this into something it doesn't have to be." He didn't dare look at Buffy, but could sense her anger and determination from where he stood. She had no intention of letting them go.   
  


Darla smiled slowly, when Drusilla suddenly collapsed, sobbing to the floor at her feet. For an instant, Darla's concentration failed as she glanced down at her granddaughter. In that instant, Buffy raised the crossbow at her side and fired. The bolt whizzed straight at Darla's heart. Darla glanced up, terror on her face.   
  


At the last second Drusilla, her face streaked with tears but oddly expressionless, reached up and caught it, inches away from her grandsire's breast. Darla's fear turned to a grin as she eyed Buffy. "Have the worst luck with those things, don't you?"   
  


Buffy bridled, looking around for another option. She saw Tara, desperately struggling against her bonds behind Willow, apparently the drugs had worn off. Willow too was awake and trying to pull away. Buffy glanced to Xander and spoke in a low voice. "Tell them to stop struggling. It won't help and might make it worse." Her eyes fastened on Drusilla. The dark haired vampire was still weeping, but her eyes were staring straight at Buffy. Buffy stared back, and felt an odd sensation of recognition, saw a flash of something familiar in the vampire's surprisingly sane gaze. She tried to grasp it, but it danced away before she could and she promptly forgot it.   
  


Xander nodded and turned his attention to the two prisoners. Instantly, their struggles stopped. He turned back to see Faith's eyes on him, curiosity warring with wariness in her gaze. He shrugged, secretly enjoying that spark of uncertainty in the formerly arrogant Slayer's expression.   
  


Drusilla laughed and held the crossbow dart close to her chest, rocking back and forth. Her eyes, huge and vacant seemed both sane and mad at once. Her gaze was trained on Buffy without wavering. "I could see it all you know. All the shades of gray, twisting and turning inside one another to make a canvas so bright only I could look at it. I saw the dust, in all its ways. But they're not there anymore, the pictures. And I never saw which one won, which shone the brightest. But it's better this way I think." She smiled and turned to Spike, he took an involuntary step back, unnerved by the look in his longtime lover's face. "Will you miss her, darling William? My little Spike, whose flesh I turned cold. I remember her, blonde and pretty. You looked at her then. And I remember her the other way too, dark and cold and full of time she hadn't lived."   
  


Drusilla swept to her feet in a graceful, sweeping movement. She tilted her head, sadness shifting to anger. "She can't take it all away you know. I'll not let her. Queen or rat, everyone has a price and a place and trap that can catch." She turned to Darla and smiled. "Life and Death and Dust, then Life and Death again. I saw it, grandmummy. It's best this way." The blonde vampire stared back at her in uncomprehending anger. Dru's hand moved so fast it was a blur, and Darla, unprepared and shocked, did nothing.   
  


The crossbow dart in her hand pierced Darla's breast. She turned shocked eyes on Drusilla, her lips parted. "Dru?" Drusilla yanked the dart back out of the vampire's chest, and then she exploded into dust, Willow slumping back into her bonds as Darla blinked out of existence.   
  


Drusilla shook her head and turned back to look at them. Spike's mouth hung open with shock, the rest of them not far away from that obvious a reaction. "It's better this way, when it comes from family. She made Angel, Angel unmade her." She raised one hand, gently blowing away the dust that had gathered in her palm. "I made her again, and then I took her away. I saw it all, how it could have happened, but not how it should have happened. So I chose the best way." A slow, languorous smile spread across her face. "There's something to be said for making your own decisions." Her smile faded. "But it's so lonely. I can't understand how you bear it, all alone in your heads." She traced the crossbow dart she still held almost lovingly down Willow's pale, bruised cheek. Her eyes moved languidly to Xander. "You'll understand. More so than them at least, though not as much as some." Faith saw Xander staring intently back, a look of concentration mixed with confusion on his face.   
  


Spike cleared his throat and again stopped Buffy as the Slayer made to move forward. "Dru baby, what's happened?"   
  


The smile turned sad. "All the things I see, and I didn't see you and I breaking apart like waves. I knew she was in your head, but I didn't understand how much. My Spike. My knight. Hers now. Goodbye to all, and to time. I'll win it back you know. I can't bear the alone." Dru glanced down at Willow. "Have her. Won't help. Nothing will. Rats to the queen, lambs to slaughter." She laughed, and whirled about, flinging one of the knives from the table toward Buffy with exact accuracy. The crossbow dart she sent whirling toward Faith. Both Slayers caught the missiles. "Hot and cold running warriors. One to fear, one to follow. But which is which? All the laws and law books and they don't know the rules a'tall, their office of mirrors holds secrets they never see."   
  


The words trailed behind her as she bolted toward the back of the warehouse. Buffy gave a strangled cry of fury and bolted after her, Faith at her heels. Buffy flung the crossbow aside and fumbled in her coat for a stake. Faith beat her to it, hurling the wooden object at the retreating vampire's back. Drusilla, moving as if she had eyes in the back of her head, dodged alertly, the stake clanging uselessly into the wall. Dru kicked the back door open, busting if off its hinges and leaving it hanging from the padlocked chain that had held it closed. She dove outside.   
  


Buffy and Faith charged after her, and came to an abrupt stop outside. Drusilla was gone, as if the darkness had simply swallowed her whole. The two Slayers exchanged a glance and then shared a moment of heartfelt profanity, Faith's a good deal more creative than Buffy's, earning her a half disgusted, half admiring glance from the blonde Slayer. Faith merely shrugged. "Hey, you try spending some time in prison and not picking up a new and improved vocabulary."   
  


Buffy glanced again at the street. "There's something going on that I don't understand. I HATE that. That fact that it happens CONSTANTLY doesn't deter from how obnoxious it is." She sighed and turned back into the building, hurrying to where Xander and Spike were loosening the various bindings that held Willow and Tara captive.   
  


Faith lingered behind, dark eyes staring into the empty street. She fingered the extra stake, still in her pocket. She whispered aloud. "One to fear, one to follow." Her voice was fearful, thoughts whirring through her head that she couldn't make sense of. She shook her head and squared her shoulders, turning back to face the doorway. "Welcome home, Faith."   
  
  
  


******************************************************************************   
  


The blue skinned woman stood alone in the doorway, uneasily aware of the emptiness behind her, keeping watch from the corner of her eye. The child stood before her, gray hair waving softly even in the utterly still air of the place she stood in. She stared at the white clad woman in the doorway with her fathomless gaze, waiting. The woman spoke first. "The Slayer has been told of Glory's nature?"   
  


The child nodded. "Yes."   
  


The woman smiled. "Excellent. I will let you know when you are needed."   
  


The child's back stiffened, though her face showed no emotion. "I am not yours to command. My place in this is more firmly set than yours. It does not hinge upon the acts of mortals."   
  


The woman smiled. "Not mine to command perhaps, but we both have those we must bow to, do we not? And we both know I speak with their voice in this."   
  


"Your brother would not approve."   
  


The woman's smile widened. "My brother is a fool, who understands nothing of the way the game is played. He knows nothing save to follow the orders laid out for him. He is useless for anything but the most straightforward of tasks. He has no cunning to use for our cause."   
  


"Such things should not depend on games and pettiness. Petty concerns like those should be left to the mortals of this realm and others like it."   
  


"Everyone has their whims Prisca. Soon, this realm will change, and old bets will be called in. If they can't tip the scale one way, then it will be evened this way."   
  


The child tilted her head. "If you fail, you will lose your place. You have failed too many times. You will lose more than that this time. You will cease to be, as those who stand against you nearly did."   
  


The woman shook her head. "It won't fail. Just be ready. And go on to meet the woman lawyer. I want her to be aware of what's occurring, but unaware of the reasons behind it."   
  


"We are all unaware of the true reasons behind it. Even you, though you like to think otherwise. And I am always ready." The child disappeared, and the woman smiled at the empty courtyard. She stepped back through the doorway and the courtyard behind her vanished with her. 

______________________________________________________________________________ 


	8. Overbalancing

  
  
  
  
**Part Seven** **Overbalancing** "My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night. But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends, It gives a lovely light." --Edna St Vincent Millay   
  
  
  


"That's it. He's out." Cordelia sank back into her chair, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "So basically, all he told us is that her name is Glorificus, she's a God, they call her Glory, and that broken fingers are painful."   
  


Angel nodded, sighing. "That's about it." He shot a glance at Cordy. "Not that we didn't try. Gotta say, bringing out that iron and heating it up was a stroke of genius."   
  


She smiled. "Thanks. Don't think I could have actually gone through with the whole sizzle part of the operation. Thankfully I didn't have to." She glanced at the unconscious demon. "Think he'll come around again?"   
  


Angel shook his head. "Don't know. I doubt it though. He lost a lot of blood before he woke up the first time, and we didn't slow it down much. Too bad we didn't try to stop it sooner. Or used the iron to close it." He smiled faintly at Cordelia's wrinkled nose and disgusted noises. He stretched, wincing as the chains pulled on his muscles. He glanced at the clock and sighed. "Think we should call them?"   
  


Cordy shook her head. "What if they're sneaking up on Darla and Drusilla right this second? A ringing phone might give them away." She paused a moment. "Although one would think they would have the good sense to turn OFF the phone." She looked pointedly at Angel, who glared in return.   
  


"Fine. I leave the phone on ONE time while I was spying on those demons downtown, and you never let me live it down. I have difficulty with modern technology sometimes. I'm over two centuries old, a telegram is still pretty new to me.""   
  


Cordelia snorted. "And yet you seem to have no trouble with the cappuccino machine, the computer, the microwave, or your precious car."   
  


"Well, those are larger and you can't forget you have them in your pocket." Angel sighed again. "I haven't had to do it much, but this waiting while someone else goes out to fight really sucks, doesn't it?"   
  


She nodded. "Yup. It's part of the burden of being 'Vison Girl'. I get to sit at home half the time while you, Wesley and Gunn run around looking for the horrible things I just saw." She stood and stretched, her eyes on the demon. "Should I . . . do something with him?"   
  


He shook his head. "No, let's wait. Maybe he'll wake up one more time." He doubted it, but he also knew that Cordelia wouldn't be overly pleased if he let her dispose of the demon herself. She hated clean up duties.   
  


The strangled ringing of the phone, its usually strident bell altered and lessened by Faith's over-enthusiastic attentions earlier, jarred Angel from his thoughts. He jumped up to answer it without thinking and promptly sat again as the weight of the chains pulled him down. Cordelia paused in her flight to answer the phone to give him a look of great pity. He ignored it as she continued to the desk and picked it up. "Hello? I mean, Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. This is Cordelia, how may we help you?" Cordelia spoke the words of the phrase she'd originated so quickly they bled together into a long, nearly senseless jumble of words. She frowned and shook her head at his questioning look. "No I'm sorry, Angel isn't available right now. Why don't you tell me your problem and maybe I can assist you? Or I can take a message if you prefer?" She reached for the pen and notepad. As she pulled the pen from its holder, her face suddenly paled and her hand knocked the pens across the desk.   
  


Angel jumped up again, balancing himself against the chains as well as he could and moving as far toward her as they would allow. "Cordy?"   
  


She spoke into the phone. "Ju-just a moment. I'll get him." She covered the mouthpiece and stared at him with wide eyes. "Angel, it's Holland Manners."   
  


Confusion crossed his face, followed quickly by anger. Cordy stretched the cord as long as it would allow, allowing him to grab it. "Holland, it's been a while. How's the wife and kids? I was so sorry to hear about Lindsey, it must have been heartbreaking for you. Especially the part where he sold you out." Cordelia sighed and rolled her eyes at Angel's antagonizing tone, obviously not considering sarcasm to be the best course of dealing with powerful evil lawyers.   
  


The voice on the other end was unmistakably the smooth, cultured, and overly moderated tones Angel had long since learned to hate. It chuckled in genuine, irritating amusement. "Angel, Angel. For someone who harbors so much animosity, you manage to amuse me every time." Holland paused, "And you know very well my wife and I were never blessed with children."   
  


"I wonder why?" Holland made a clucking noise of disapproval. Angel gritted his teeth, voice hissing through his tense jaw. "What do you want Holland?"   
  


"Well, it's not so much what I want as what I need. Not that what I need would concern you I'd imagine. But what someone else needs probably will. Right now, they're probably in need of a touch of kindness, something to eat and a shower. Oh, and probably some medical attention as well. Unfortunately, I really can't provide it. Company policy, you know."   
  


Angel hid his alarm. "What are you talking about?"   
  


Holland's voice was so smug Angel wished he could reach through the line and strangle him. "Why don't I let them tell you themselves. Or at least the one that's still capable of speaking. Hold on just a moment . . ."   
  


Cordelia moved to stand in front of him, staring at him apprehensively. He stared past her, waiting. After a moment of audible phone shuffling, a tired and familiar voice spoke into the phone. "Angel?"   
  


"Wesley?" Angel shared a shocked glance with Cordy. "What's going on? Where are you? Are you alright?"   
  


"Angel . . . they destroyed the council. It's utterly decimated, just gone. The records, the histories . . ." Wesley's normally reserved voice was filled with unmistakable pain. "Nearly everyone was killed. Rupert and I . . ."   
  


Angel prompted him as his voice trailed off uncertainly. "Is Giles with you Wesley? Are you two alright?"   
  


"Yes, yes. He's here. He's . . . well he's unconscious. He's alive, but he's had a rough time of it." Wesley's voice lowered. "Angel, terrible things are happening, all of them revolving around Wolfram & Hart and . . . . well us. Portals between dimensions are being opened and-"   
  


His voice cut off abruptly and Holland's replaced it. "Angel, your charming friend is quite right. There are many things occurring. And many of them, unfortunately, do indeed seem to revolve around you and the rest of your happy little group." He sighed heavily. "And I find myself in need of your assistance. It seems things are . . . moving beyond my control. I need you to help me regain it."   
  


Angel sneered. "And why would I ever do that?"   
  


"Because if you don't, not only will the British members of your party suffer a rather ugly and lengthy demise along with several of their Councilman friends, but so will the rest of the world."   
  


"Since when do you care about saving the world?" Angel's mind was drawing a disturbing blank as he desperately sorted through what little he knew, trying to figure out what to do.   
  


"I don't actually. I care about much more personal issues. They just happen to involve larger ones as well. I'm afraid we'll have to have a meeting to discuss all of this. Shall we say tomorrow around noon in my office?"   
  


"That's not good for me Holland. I'd prefer, say, right now. And why don't you come to me, and bring Giles and Wesley with you?"   
  


Holland chuckled again. "I'm afraid not. I have plans tonight. And the Watchers will stay . . . where they are. I really must go now. Oh, and Angel," Holland paused, and Angel could almost see his mild mannered, threatening smile. "Don't plan on showing up anytime before our scheduled meeting. You know about our . . security measures. You can't get in without us knowing about it. And if you come in, I can't be responsible for what the more vehement members of my staff will do to your friends. Give my regards to your charming secretary. Lovely eyes she has. A shame they're not fulfilling their full potential. They'd have been much more useful where I planned to put them." Angel growled to an empty phone line as the click of the phone announced the end of the conversation.   
  


He lowered the phone, the monotonous tone of an empty line clicking on after a moment. His eyes met Cordelia's. Her voice was soft with fear. "He has Wesley?"   
  


Angel sighed and handed her the phone, sinking back into his chair, and running his hands through his hair. "And Giles."   
  


She hung up the phone almost absently, her face still pale. "What are you going to do?"   
  


Angel didn't look up, his eyes trained on the floor. "I'm going to sit here and wait for Buffy to unchain me."   
  


Cordelia winced at the utterly bland tone of his voice. "Maybe we SHOULD call them."   
  


His dark head shook, his eyes still on the floor. "They'll call eventually."   
  


Cordelia hesitated, tears stinging her eyes. She resolutely forced them away and made her way back over to the computer, mutely resuming the search she'd abandoned some time ago. She studied pages of demons that never mentioned a super strong blonde, and tried desperately not to think of what Holland Manners was capable of.   
  


Angel paid no attention to her. He lifted the folder he'd dropped at his feet and thumbed through it again. He flipped to his own page, read the bio that spoke the history of his entire life, and unlife, in less than a hundred words. There was a picture of him, a slightly blurred likeness taken from the security cameras on one of his many uninvited trips into the depths of Wolfram & Harts downtown office. Beneath it, in large letters were the words, "Do Not Target. Must Be Left Alive." Several other pages held similar words, adding the phrase 'if possible' to the end; Spike's, Faith's Xander's, . . . what did Wolfram & Hart want with all of them? Their pictures stared back at him, their bios telling their stories. Like his, they glossed over so much with a few blasé words. Mentioning events that had changed the lives of the people they spoke of with a terse blitheness that robbed them of their importance.   
  


Their pictures seemed to stare at him. Xander's was out of date, an awkward, forced pose from his graduation. He looked much younger. Cordelia's was more recent. A glossy professional photo he recognized as being part of her portfolio. She looked beautiful, a wide smile on her face, it was only because he knew her so well that he saw the signs of stress around her eyes, proof of a recent vision. Faith's picture rendered the dark haired Slayer nearly unrecognizable. It was a mug shot, a sign held in front of her, face devoid of makeup and alarmingly pale, a look of utter despair in her eyes. Only a short time ago, Xander had been at the top of Wolfram & Hart's hit list, and they were doing everything possible to ensure Faith received a maximum sentence Now Xander was protected, and they'd let Faith loose. Why? There were pieces missing from the puzzle, and Angel's frustration rose as he failed, again, to piece them together.   
  


He flipped to Buffy's page. Like Xander, her picture was out of date, though her profile was much longer, well over the 100 word limit the rest seemed to be written under. She was smiling, but it was a tense smile. He remembered well the tension from that time, when graduation day and the end of the world were threatening. It was around that same time he'd told her he was leaving when it was all over. He wondered which one of those troubles was foremost in her sad, worried eyes. Even in her sorrow, the vivaciousness was still there, the life he'd gotten so accustomed to seeing in her. Today, watching her as she walked away from him, leaving him chained and helpless, he'd seen that the light was dimming. Buffy was burning out. Looking at folder that listed her as 'Priority Target', and printed a neat list of some of her accomplishments, an averted apocalypse listed beneath her SAT scores in the same impersonal, emotionless type, Angel wondered how much longer she would last. It was a painful thought, one he pushed away as quickly as it came. But it lingered in the back of his mind as he stared into the photo's flat, sad gaze no matter how hard he tried to ignore it.   
  


His eyes rose from the printed impersonal pages and fixed on Cordelia as she sat at the computer, the glow of the screen lighting her features in a way that was less than flattering. Her face was pale, her expression deeply worried. He saw it in her as well, the strain. He Saw the way the glow of her was dimming with every pain-filled vision. It was happening to all of them, the mortal members of the groups he'd been a member of in the last few years. The time he'd spent with them was nothing to him, barely a pause in an overlong life. But he'd been with them and lived those years as a mortal and a warrior, as they had. He'd seen how much it took, and how the time seemed to both fly and crawl for them. How those few years turned them from children to adults, from innocents to cynics.   
  


Perhaps that was pushing it too far. Not all of them were cynical yet. He still saw flashes of newness in Cordelia, when she smiled and gushed over something that seemed so inconsequential to him. But it would come. They would fight and age and one by one they would die. And the ones left behind would grieve, grow hard, and lose hope. He'd seen it happen a thousand times. He'd MADE it happen a thousand times. He'd taken pleasure in it, destroying everything his victims loved one by one before finally taking their life as they begged for him to end their newly miserable existence. Drusilla had been created that way. There had been others as well. Most of them had died off over the years, his fledglings. Some of them he'd killed himself when they failed to live up to his own expectations for them. Darla had smiled and called him a harsh father as she opened her arms to him, laughing as she complained of the dust on his clothes. She'd been as callous with her own kind as she was with humans, and so had he.   
  


He tried not to think of it. Tried not to realize that the men and women he fought with would age and die while he stayed as he was. He'd tried so hard not to care, but it hadn't worked. He did care, and not just for Buffy. They all mattered to him, though he wasn't likely to admit it about Xander. The two of them had enjoyed a long and well documented dislike of one another, and he wasn't about to spoil the game by admitting he was fond of the boy. But hard as he tried not to care, it hadn't worked. Despite his best efforts, he cared more than he'd known was possible. And now he tried not to think about what would happen as the years turned on. But that wasn't working either.   
  


A small, selfish part of him had rejoiced when Buffy was turned. He'd been furious at Katerina for what she'd done, and he'd loathed seeing Buffy like him, a cold being. But a part of him had realized that now he didn't have to watch her die or grow old. She wouldn't have lasted long enough to grow old, no Slayer did. But now she was frozen, eternally young. And one day, when he was granted his humanity, maybe they would grant hers as well. It would be a Fairy Tale come true. But Angel had been alive for too long to believe in happily ever after. The Big Bad Wolf always got in the way. In one way or another.   
  


Buffy was dimming. Had she still been human, her time on this earth would be rapidly running out. But she wasn't human, not anymore. No more human than he was. And death was no longer his fear for her. Katerina had once told him that no spell held her soul to her. She'd kept it because she'd fought to keep it, she'd fought against the demon and her own darker nature and held on to it because she was strong enough to do so, because it was her only choice. She'd told him he could have done the same, had he chosen to. It had been one of their more spectacular -and recurring- arguments. He'd disagreed with her, and still did. But Buffy had kept her soul. She'd done as Kat did, fought for it and held onto it because of the sheer power of her will. Kat had said once, in a rare moment of quietness for the two of them, that she fought to keep herself everyday, and had since the day she'd been born. As a Slayer only, she'd fought against the dark, primal side of her own nature. As a vampire, she'd fought both the darkness that came with her calling, and the demon that came with her new immortality. It was an unending battle, and an exhausting one. Katerina had slept after that single, long stretch during the Watcher Wars. She'd awakened for brief spans of time, and then resumed her sleep. After the Wars, she'd dealt with little else than a few stray demons and vampires before The Master had sent her back to her much-loathed bed.   
  


But Buffy didn't sleep. Threat after threat surfaced; never giving her a true sense of winning as time and time again she had to fight to save the world. She had no time to savor her victory when another battle loomed. No time to savor the life of a young girl. No time to be just herself, just Buffy. Kat had claimed Buffy was stronger than she, and maybe she was, but Buffy lived in desperate times, more so than Katerina even. And it was showing. It was dimming her and tiring her and making her into a shadow of herself. And what threatened was no longer death. She'd gone beyond that. What threatened now was the loss of that internal battle. And if that battle were lost, Buffy would become something the world had never seen, the Council's greatest fear. Far more dangerous than a rogue mortal slayer, as Faith had been. An immortal hunter with ice in her veins and no conscience. The consequences were now significantly higher. And Angel had no idea what to do about it.   
  


Holland Manners had her Watcher. Buffy was already beginning to hate Wolfram & Hart with a passion. When she found out, anger was likely to outweigh reason. Angel rattled his chains despondently as a single thought ran through his brain repeatedly. If Buffy made the wrong choice, there was nothing he could do to stop her, even now. And if the time came that Buffy's flame went out, there was nothing he could do to stop her then, either. He was just a vampire. She was much more.   
  


Angel shut the folder and lowered his head as far into his hands as the chains would allow, fear and hopelessness in his mind. Not for Glory, not for Wolfram & Hart. Angel was afraid of the future. And he was afraid of what the woman he loved seemed to be edging ever closer to becoming. He made a decision. "Cordelia?" She turned toward him questioningly. "We're not going to tell anyone about Wesley and Giles."   
  


Her eyes widened. "What are you talking about? We have to tell Buffy. Giles is her Watcher! We have to figure out what we're going to do."   
  


Angel shook his head. "Buffy's got enough on her mind. If I tell her that Wolfram & Hart has them, she's likely to go busting in there and we both know what will happen then. They don't need two hostages Cordelia. They only need one. And even if they keep both alive, they could make them wish they were dead."   
  


"So we don't tell her the address, then she can't go there till we're all ready and prepared." Her voice was timid, recognizing the weakness of that reasoning.   
  


He smiled faintly. "She can use a phone book Cordy."   
  


"Angel . . . she'll be furious if she finds out. And what about Xander? We can't keep anything from him. You should hear him on the phone. He knows things I'm thinking before I'm done thinking them half the time."   
  


"Xander's not stupid. I'll take him aside and explain."   
  


She hesitated, her eyes searching his. "If we don't tell Buffy, what ARE we going to do?"   
  


He sighed. "The only thing we can do, unless The Powers That Be give you a vision to guide us. Go Back to Caritas."   
  


She groaned. "We're hitting a bar when Wesley and Giles are held captive, and a psycho hell-bitch demons think is a God is on the loose? Doesn't seem right."   
  


"You have a better idea then?"   
  


Cordelia said nothing for a long moment. Angel looked lost, indecisive. Since they'd begun this agency, since she'd started working for him, she always thought Angel knew what to do. He didn't always do the right thing, but he always did something. He always figured out some way to act. Now he was lost, relying on someone else to solve a problem for him. It was worrisome, and out of character. But he was right. She didn't have any other ideas to offer. Finally, she shook her head, forced a slight smile across her lips. "You're not going to sing again, are you?"   
  


"No."   
  


"Thank God for small favors."   
  


Angel grunted in response when a sudden, nagging thought shoved its way into his brain. He frowned more deeply and flipped the folder open again. He couldn't pin the thought down, wasn't sure what he was looking for exactly as he paged once again through the profiles. Finally he stopped on Spike's page. The photograph of the blond vampire was black and white, slightly grainy, obviously a still shot taken from a video, as was the shot of Angel. This one though was taken in a place Angel didn't recognize. Spike stood in front of a clear wall, in a sterile white room. Spike's face was set in an expression of unmistakable anger as he faced the camera, his eyes on something beneath it, his fists raised against the clear wall. In the corner of the photo, where Spike was looking, Angel could see what looked like the back of a person, bending over a table. The half-figure- if that's what it was- wore what looked like a white lab coat.   
  


Suddenly he remembered a conversation he'd had with Willow, some time ago over the phone, when she'd told him of Spike's chip and subsequent transformation into an occasional ally. He'd been against it, and had nearly gone to Sunnydale to warn Spike off himself, and ask Buffy what she was doing trusting him. But Willow had told him in that soft, firm way of hers that it wouldn't do any good. And for some reason, he'd believed her.   
  


He stared at the picture again. Spike in a sterile cell surrounded by security cameras. He knew what this was a picture of now. The Initiative. They had access to the Initiative files. That was why the chip didn't work anymore. They had turned it off. And if Spike's was off . . . Angel slammed the folder closed and sighed, wondering how many "rehabilitated" monsters the Government had set loose with violence inhibitors that had just ceased to inhibit anything. 

******************************************************************************   
  


Faith stood, her hands on her hips, mouth set in a mutinous line. "No."   
  


Gunn glared at her. "Give over girl. We both know Angel would rather I drove his ride home than you. I've driven it before."   
  


"So have I. On the way here."   
  


"Do you have a license? Oh that's right, they don't give you one when you've only been out of prison for ONE day, do they?" Gunn saw the Slayer's face darken at that and he smiled quickly to lighten the statement. "Come on. Something big, ugly, and lethal has to be attacking for me to get a chance to pilot Angel's wheels. Please? I'll let you have shotgun."   
  


Faith allowed her face to break into a small smile. "Fine you drive then. But I'm not going to watch. I'll ride with Xander."   
  


Buffy glanced at Willow, who stood huddled next to Tara, both their expressions guarded, their faces bruised. She needed to talk to them, and Willow wasn't likely to listen if Faith was in the car with them. "Will, Tara, and me will ride with Gunn. Spike and Faith can go with Xander, okay? Everyone happy? Let's get the hell out of here. Xander? You still have that phone? We should let Angel know we got them . . . and the rest."   
  


Xander shook his head. "Phone's dead. Batteries must not have been charged."   
  


"Damn." Buffy sighed. "I guess it will just have to wait until we get back. Let's go. Those chains are probably chafing by now." She grinned at that thought. The presence of her friends had given her flagging spirits a boost.   
  


Willow glanced at Buffy in confusion. "Chains?"   
  


"I'll explain on the way." Buffy herded Willow and Tara into the car, hugging them both once more fiercely. There had been a lot of those sudden, abrupt, forceful embraces since they had been reunited.   
  


Faith tossed Gunn the keys, and then turned toward the red sports car as Xander slid into the driver's seat. She hesitated, glancing between the front and back door. He smiled. "Get in, better you shotgun than Spike."   
  


Faith smiled at that, and slid into the seat, her eyes rising when she heard the distinct sound of tires screeching on pavement. She shook her head. "Hope you can find your way home on your own. Doesn't look like that guy's going to wait."   
  


Xander smiled again, the expression slightly strained. "I'll manage" He turned toward the sidewalk. "Coming?"   
  


Spike stood there, an expression of uncertainly on his face. This was his chance. He could vanish into the city again. This Slayer wouldn't bother herself too much if he disappeared, and the boy couldn't keep him from doing as he liked.   
  


Faith watched him for a moment, silently wondering whether she should go and get him. With what that child had said, and what she'd seen of Glory and her intentions against Buffy, they might need him.   
  


Xander glanced at her in shock. His eyes widening in surprise and concern. Abruptly he turned to Spike. "She's after Buffy, Spike. That blonde. Her name is Glorificus and she's a goddess, and if we don't stop her then the world's going to end. Buffy will fight her, try to stop that from happening, and she'll die. And then the world will end and she'll have fought for nothing. And the rest of us will have to watch Buffy die, and then greet the end of the world with marshmallows and loud screaming."   
  


Spike scowled. "How the hell do you know all that? You're just bluffing, trying to be a good little boy and bring me back to the Slayer." He hesitated another moment, than took a deep unnecessary breath and let out a long sigh. "Bloody everlasting hell." He slumped unhappily into the backseat, sitting in sullen silence as Xander shifted the car into gear and began making their way home.   
  


The silence stretched for long moments. Finally Xander glanced at Faith. "Okay, shoot."   
  


She raised her eyebrows. "What?"   
  


He sighed. "Faith, I can hear the questions tumbling around in your brain. I know that's why you wanted to ride with me, because you wanted explanations and you wouldn't ask in front of Buffy and Angel. I don't know why. Well, actually I do know why, but I shouldn't, so I'll pretend I don't." He shot her a tired smile. "So ask."   
  


Faith hesitated, her eyes glancing in the rearview mirror to where the vampire sulked in the back seat, though she couldn't see him reflected there. She shrugged and sighed after a moment and turned, settling herself more comfortably in the seat as she face Xander as best she could. "Okay then. What is that? Why can you read minds all the sudden? 'Cause believe me, you couldn't do it a while ago, or you would have figured out I wasn't Buffy a whole lot sooner during that whole body-switch thing." She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder to see Spike still staring out the window, paying no attention to the conversation, to her relief. She'd said she might owe him apology. Didn't mean she really had any intention of giving it to him.   
  


He sighed. "It's a long story. The short version is that we all found ourselves in a really tight spot a few weeks ago. Another of those pesky end of the world things looming. Buffy and . . .well, Buffy had a dream that said that someone she already knew would have the power to erase all knowledge of a certain ritual that would bring the world to a screeching halt. Turns out that person was me, and that I have more new talents than you can shake a stick at." He frowned briefly. "What does that mean anyway? 'Shake a stick at'? Why would anyone want to shake a stick at something?"   
  


"Beats me." Faith was quiet a moment. "So what do you DO, exactly? And did you . . erase people's memories?"   
  


"Turns out that I'm something called a Reader. Kat- er, someone who knows a little about it said that most Readers could only read thoughts. Turns out that I'm the only one alive right now, or so we think, so I get a grab bag of extra abilities. I can read over distances, can read the minds of vampires, I can erase memories and knowledge." He sighed. "Slice, dice, chop, grate, and makes Julienne fries, all for the low, low price of $19.95."   
  


Spike's voice, still surly, floated from the back of the car. "Not worth it Slayer. Boy's got no stamina, best make sure he comes with a warrantee."   
  


Xander only smiled and shook his head slightly, but Faith twisted in her seat to give the vampire an appraising look. "And how," she paused dramatically, her voice highly amused and sharply insinuating at the same time, "Exactly would you know that, Spike?"   
  


"Hey!" Two voices spoke at once, both highly affronted.   
  


Faith grinned and raised her hands. "Just kidding Xan-man." She glanced at Spike, who was glaring at her. She blew him a kiss and returned her attention back to Xander. "So, did you go and erase that ritual thing from a bunch of people's heads?"   
  


Xander shook his head. "No. Turns out that the ritual they thought they had was a fake. And the other ritual, the one that forced a weighing of the scales can't be performed for another thousand years, so-" He saw Faith's mystified face and grimaced. "Told you it was a long story."   
  


She stared at him, her eyes unreadable. He didn't need them to know what she was thinking though. "Then tell me the whole story Xander. No games or skirting issues. I think . . ." Her voice trailed off and she hesitated before continuing. "I think I need to know. I think there's something . . .I just have to know everything that's happened." She didn't finish, but the thought lingered in her mind and Xander heard it as clearly as a shout. She had to know what had happened to prepare for what was coming.   
  


He didn't bother to correct her, he felt it too. A looming, threatening presence on the horizon. He wasn't a Slayer, he wasn't a Seer. He didn't dream of the future. But he heard more than any other man alive, and he'd been through enough in his short years to know that something was coming. And like Faith, he was afraid.   
  


Xander checked his mirrors carefully, and pulled the car over. He slid into the parking lot of a run-down gas station and parked, switching the engine off. Behind him, Spike sat up straighter, his eyes trained on them. Xander focused for a moment, pushing their thoughts, and the thoughts of the nameless people around him as far away as he could, closing his own mind off until the only voice her heard was his own. Finally he opened the eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed and met Faith's searching gaze. Without the obvious uncertainty of her thoughts in his mind, he felt the stigma of his own deep-seated resentment rising up as he gazed into her dark unreadable eyes. He pushed it away, forcing himself to remember the sorrow and repentance he'd heard so clearly. He settled back in his seat and began to tell her the whole thing. He condensed where he could, glossing over the parts that weren't essential. It still took longer than he expected. Through it all, Faith was silent, her expression closed. But now and then he heard echoes of her shock, dismay, and regret.   
  


It was nearly an hour later when the questions he'd heard in Faith's mind had all been answered. He'd pulled back onto the road, and was well on his way toward Angel's when Faith spoke again. Her voice startled him, as the wall he'd built was still firmly in place. "Xander . . . you said the ritual was false, and you didn't have to erase anything, right?" He nodded in answer, waiting for her to continue. She did so, a long moment later. "But didn't the Oracles in Buffy and . . Katerina's dream say that you would have to use it?" Her voice held a distinct trace of dislike when they touched on Kat's name. Spike heard it too, his lip curling into a sneer.   
  


Xander was quiet for a long moment, his own thoughts jumbled. When finally he answered, it was terse. "Yes."   
  


She hesitated again. "Do you think they wouldn't know it was a fake? That you wouldn't have to do anything?"   
  


He shook his head. "I don't know."   
  


"They knew." Spike's voice was flat and toneless. Faith turned to face him, Xander staring in the rearview then scowling when he couldn't see the vampire.   
  


"What are you talking about Spike?" He asked because Spike wanted him to. He already knew. Even with his wall, he knew what they both were getting at.   
  


"You know. They knew it was a fake. That stupid ritual, the one Kat took a bite out of Buffy for, the thing with the scale. Those weren't what she was talking about. Whatever ritual you have to erase hasn't been done yet. It's still coming." Spike's eyes were closed, a note of weariness had entered his voice that Xander had never heard before.   
  


"How can you be so sure?" Xander asked, but he didn't really mean it. He felt that Spike was right. Whatever had been so dire hadn't happened yet. The threat was still there.   
  


"I can't, mate. But that's the way it always seems to go around you lot, isn't it? One steaming load of good news after another." Xander didn't answer, and Spike fell silent. Faith glanced between the two of them, but said nothing. They drove the rest of the way in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.   
  


****************************************************************************** 

"She had you for THREE days? God Willow, I'm so sorry-"   
  


"Buffy, it's not your fault." Willow's voice stumbled to a halt as she saw the look on Buffy's face. She knew where it came from; you didn't have to be a mind reader to know what Buffy was thinking. 'It's not your fault' was something Buffy had heard once too often. She sighed and pushed on. "It's not Buffy. From what they said, she'd been watching us for a while, figuring out the best way to get us. And it's not like any lasting damage was done. Sure, this is one more thing to add to the nightmare bank, but it's not like it's even at the front of the line." She smiled faintly. "Tara and I are okay, Darla's dust. Drusilla's . . well, granted, Drusilla's exit wasn't ideal but still. Overall it was a rousing victory for us, right?"   
  


Gunn shook his head. "I wouldn't say rousing. 'Adequate' maybe."   
  


Willow glared at him. "Thanks. I'll make a note of that." She frowned then. "And on an entirely different subject . . . Who is that?" She pointed at Gunn. "Also, when did Spike turn up, why are you and Xander in LA with Giles' car . . . and why the hell is Faith not locked away in a padded cell?"   
  


"I'm Gunn. I work with Angel." Gunn gave the witch a little wave in the rearview mirror.   
  


Willow waved back weakly. "Okay, one down. Lots to go. Feel free to explain. Use big words if you like."   
  


Tara, who was sitting slumped in the backseat beside Willow, raised her head from the redhead's shoulder and gave her a slight frown. "Willow, maybe we should wa-wait till we get back to Angel's. Wh-when everyone's there." Tara's stutter, which had faded into near nonexistence in the last few months had made a reappearance, undoubtedly because of the ordeal she'd just been forced through.   
  


"No, it's okay. I wanted to tell you before we got there." Buffy sighed and swivelled in her seat to face the two more comfortably. "You know why they had you there, right?"   
  


Willow just nodded, but Tara answered, her voice slightly confused. "They wanted Willow to do some ki-kind of spell to turn Angel bad, right?"   
  


Buffy nodded. "Cordelia had a vision about it."   
  


"So that's why you and Xander were in LA? Because of her vision?" Willow looked confused. "And where's Angel? You'd think he'd want to come, this being his city and his sire and kid and all."   
  


Buffy shook her head. "No. Xander and I were already in LA. We came to sing Karaoke, and ran into Angel, Cordy, and Gunn. They had Faith with them. And we literally ran into Spike outside the karaoke bar, as in head-on collision."   
  


Willow sighed in frustration and squeezed her eyes shut. Tara smiled at her through bruised lips and ran a hand over her closed, blackened eyes carefully. She glanced at Buffy. "I th-think you'd better start at the beg-begin-beginning." She flushed at the obvious stammer, glancing at Gunn. He watched the road studiously.   
  


Buffy nodded, then glanced at them more carefully. "Are you two hungry?"   
  


Willow's eyes shot open as Tara nodded emphatically. Willow smiled. "I went past hungry like 24 hours ago. It was a strict water and occasional Twinkie ration there."   
  


Gunn snorted in the front seat. "They fed you Twinkies?"   
  


Tara nodded. Buffy shook her head. "Obviously, they're not up on the latest in human cuisine. She turned to Gunn. "Anywhere we can swing by and pick up some decent food?"   
  


Gunn gave Buffy a long look, obviously thinking that she didn't need to eat. But he said nothing, glancing instead in the rearview and smiling at the two women reflected there. "How's Chinese sound ladies?"   
  


"Perfect." Willow smiled at him. "Thanks."   
  


He smiled back and switched lanes, heading for the nearest exit. Buffy made herself comfortable and began filling both of them in on all that had happened. Willow interrupted frequently with exclamations, comments, questions, and complaints. Thirty minutes later they were on their way back to Angel's, three bags of Chinese at their feet. A fourth bag was confiscated by the witches for immediate consumption. Buffy and Gunn both doubted the bag would make it all the way to the hotel at the rate the two were eating.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


The BMW sped smoothly down the highway, the man behind the wheel squinting at the dark road. He reached up and loosened the tie around his neck, cursing beneath his breath. "Damn bloodsucking lawyers. Take every penny they can get their grimy hands on. And for what? Nothing!" He took a great puff of his fat cigar, coughing violently as the smoke left his lungs. He hoped to god Inez was working tonight. He needed some relaxation, and for less than the cost of four of his sinfully expensive cigars, Inez would indulge him in any kind of relaxation he wanted. The girl was remarkably limber, and had rapidly become his new favorite, taking the place of Rachel, whom he'd helped put through law school with his frequent visits and gifts. Bitch. She'd been better off as a hooker than as a damn lawyer.   
  


A shape beside the road caught his attention. A tall young woman stood there. He wasn't certain she was hitching; she held no sign and her hands were clasped behind her back in a vaguely childlike posture. He slowed still more. The car behind him, his only company on the road right now, honked angrily and swerved around him, blasting away with an irritated squeal of rubber.   
  


He paid no attention, pulling the car over just behind the girl. She turned to look at him with dark, dark eyes, long gray skirts swaying as she moved. She wasn't beautiful precisely, but she was captivating. Dark hair, dark eyes, and skin a pale, delicate white. She was enchanting. He licked his lips. He might not have to pay Inez tonight at all. The girl may be talented, but she was expensive. And novelty was always welcome. He rolled down his window and leaned out. "You looking for a ride, doll? I'll take you where you want to go."   
  


The girl said nothing, but turned and made her way to the passenger door. She pulled it open and slid gracefully into the seat. He smiled at her, and clicked the locks subtly. "Where you going darling?" She turned to him, dark eyes oddly blank. He frowned. She must be stoned. Her weird presence was beginning to unsettle him. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.   
  


After a long moment, her red lips parted in a smile, white teeth flashing. "I'm going to Sunnydale." Her voice held a youthful simplicity beneath its accented tones.   
  


He shook his head. "Sorry. Not going that way. Guess you'll have to wait for another ride after all." He waited for her to get out, but she didn't move, didn't speak. He scowled at her. "You deaf? I can't take you there. Get out and wait for someone else."   
  


She frowned at him with an expression of great sadness.. "Do you know what it's like to be blind? To see everything one moment, and nothing the next? It's horrible you know. So frightening when you're all alone." He scowled more deeply and she sighed. "No, I don't supposed you do." Suddenly she smiled, the sadness dropping away. A thrill of fear ran through him and he reached for his door handle, his fingers clumsy as he tried to pull it open without success. She paid no attention, smiling still. "Perhaps I can show you."   
  


He screamed as her face changed. The dark eyes turned yellow, the smooth skin turned ridged and horrific, fangs emerged from her mouth. She smiled at him still, the expression hideous in the monstrous face. He tried again to open the door and managed to click it open. But her hand closed around his arm like a vice. He struggled uselessly, but couldn't pull away. She reached for him with fingers that were tipped in long silver nails. He squinted his eyes shut and screamed as the fingers edged with agonizing slowness toward his face.   
  


His screams didn't last long. They turned to the whimpered pain of a man sliding deep into shock. The woman lifted her fingers to her mouth and licked the blood that remained slowly. She pushed him roughly out of the door. He landed on the highway in a crumpled heap, still whimpering. She slid behind the wheel gracefully, throwing the lit cigar out the door and onto his back with an expression of deep disgust. She bent and reached into the man's pocket, pulling out a satisfyingly thick wallet. She smiled at him. "Don't worry, I'm going to make it all right again." Her eyes lingered on him and her smile widened. "Well, maybe not for you." She kicked him further into the road with one foot, then drew it back inside the car and slammed the door. She slid the car into gear and drove jerkily away. With a squeal of tires and a gun of her engine, she sped over the concrete median and onto the other side of the highway. She pushed hard on the gas and the car shot down the highway, away from LA, toward Sunnydale, California.   
  


She sang softly to herself as she drove. "Run and catch, run and catch. Must find the key to fit the Queen's latch . . . ."   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	9. Drowning

  
  


Author's Note: This part was delayed because of Fanfiction.net's difficulties, among other things. Thanks so my diligent and lovely Beta Readers, Laura and Seadragonlady, as always. Also, and I realize this is an act of pure fantasy and ego on my part considering the sketchy number of reviews this story has garnered recently, but I've started a mailing list dedicated to it and any other works I may start. This list is really just to serve in the stead of the usually defunct Author Alert option, so that anyone who desires can be notified when a new chapter is posted. I'm hoping that this helps a few people that were fans of this story's predecessor find and remember to read and review this sequel. But even if it doesn't, this story will be completed, as I'm much too involved with it to not finish it. Anyway, if you are interested, please sign up for the mailing list at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Sullen_Siren_Fiction Thanks, as always for reading and please give me a happy and review or drop me an email.   
  
  
  
  
  
Part Eight: Drowning "Tired of the water. Tired of the wine. Tired of the future. Tired of time. Tired of the madness. Tired of the steel. Tired of the violence. Tired of me." -- Live "Tired of Me"   
  
  
  


Buffy stared apprehensively up at the hotel, biting her lip uncertainly. Willow followed her gaze and smiled faintly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't believe you chained him up. He is so not going to be a happy camper."   
  


Buffy smiled too at that. "Well, not like I had a lot of choice. I wasn't up for another rousing game of 'which friend dies first', with our host Angelus." She sobered at that thought and glanced at Willow. "Guess I should just get it over with. Maybe he'll be so happy we saved you all that he'll forget about the whole lock and chains thing."   
  


Gunn shook his head at that as he stepped out of the car and flipped the seat forward for Tara and Willow. "Not an Angel expert, but I doubt it." He glanced at Tara, who still seemed the more shaken of the two. "You need any help?"   
  


Tara started, then shook her head. "N-no. I'm okay. Thanks." She offered him a smile and pushed herself out, Willow a step behind her. The witches in the lead, the other two hovering behind them, grasping the greasy bottomed food bags as they made their way inside.   
  


Willow stepped through the large, broken doorway first, avoiding the door itself which half lay in her path.   
  


Gunn and Buffy followed her in, and caught her barely suppressed giggle. Buffy smiled faintly. She supposed Angel, chained and perching uncomfortably on a love seat was at least a little bit amusing. She didn't have time to do anything but glance at Angel though. A blur of motion intercepted them, half laughing, half sobbing in relief. "Willow! Tara! You're okay! Thank God." Cordelia pulled them both into rough hugs, surprising Tara, who'd only known the brunette for a short amount of time. Cordelia smiled widely at them. "You look awful. I mean, well, you know what I mean, the bruises and no makeup and everything." She turned her attention to Buffy. "Did you stake Darla and Dru? If so, I think you should get a medal, they've been the biggest pains in our ass, mostly because-"   
  


"Dru got away, Darla's dust though." Buffy interrupted a shade before Gunn could, both of them eager to halt Cordelia's flood of words. She had, however, chosen an iffy topic to change it to, judging from the sudden stony expression on Angel's formerly pleased face. "It wasn't us though." She hastily added. "Drusilla staked her." She didn't mention that Dru had only dusted Darla after Buffy's attempt to do so had failed. She'd go into detail later.   
  


Cordelia's face was confused, Angel's still utterly expressionless. "Why would Drusilla stake Darla?"   
  


Gunn shrugged. "Beats me. We didn't have a lunatic to English dictionary, so we didn't have a clue what she was babbling about."   
  


Cordelia started to say something else, then halted, and glanced behind them. "Where are the rest of you?"   
  


Buffy shrugged. "Should have been here already. Maybe they got a little lost."   
  


"Maybe." Cordy glanced over her shoulder at Angel, an odd look on her face. Buffy frowned and started to ask what was wrong, but the expression faded as quickly as it came, and Cordelia moved to hurry them into the room, guiding Willow and Tara toward the sofas. "Okay, we'll find you guys some clean clothes and you can shower and change and all while Buffy unchains Angel, okay? Unless you want to sleep or eat first or something?"   
  


Willow shook her head, her eyes straying toward Angel again before snapping back to Cordelia. "We ate on the way, thanks. A shower and clean clothes would be great. I feel . . . icky." 

Cordelia smiled broadly. "Okay! I have some stuff here, I'll find something. Come on. I'll show you the shower in Angel's room. It's huge, way big enough for two people." Willow and Tara both blushed slightly as Angel rolled his eyes and Gunn grinned. Buffy just glared at Cordelia, who blinked at her. "What?" She thought back over what she'd said and gave an exasperated sigh. "Geez you people have dirty minds. I meant because they might need to HELP each other, since they've just been beaten up and imprisoned. You've been hanging out with Spike too much."   
  


All of them glanced at one another, guilty half-smiles giving them away. Willow and Tara rose and followed Cordelia. As she led them past Angel, he reached out and caught Willow's arm and smiled at her. "I'm glad you two are alright."   
  


Willow smiled at him. "Thanks Angel. And . . . sorry about the chains thing." She hugged him quickly and moved stiffly after Cordelia, one arm around Tara's shoulders. The other girl was leaning unobtrusively against her. Tara just smiled at Angel and nodded before they disappeared around the corner toward Angel's rooms.   
  


Angel cleared his throat uneasily and nodded toward the desk. A large pair of lock cutters leaned against it, well out of his reach. "Cordelia found those while you were gone."   
  


Buffy and Gunn both stepped toward them at the same time. They blinked when both their hands reached toward the cutters at the same time. Gunn smiled and stepped aside, waving gracefully toward the tool. "Since you put him there, I'll let you get him out then."   
  


Buffy nodded and put the bag of Chinese on the desk beside the one Gunn had held. She hefted the cutters, making her way toward Angel. She began carefully cutting away the locks as Gunn unwound the chains and undid the cuffs. She was careful not to meet Angel's eyes as she worked, but she felt his eyes pressing into her. She was relieved when Gunn began to speak, diverting his attention from her. "Anything go down here while we were gone?"   
  


Angel spared Buffy a last glance. She raised her eyes in time to catch it and a shudder ran down her spine for no reason she could explain, as his eyes were as expressionless as they had been a moment before. His attention turned to Gunn and he shook his head, rubbing his newly freed arms as he spoke. "Not really. We questioned the demon." He nodded toward the unconscious creature. "But he didn't tell us much we didn't already know. I'll fill you in when we're all here." He shot Buffy another quick, appraising look as she bent to finish freeing his ankles. Suddenly Buffy knew. Angel was hiding something.   
  


She straightened with a snap and met his eyes full on for the first time since she'd come back. He looked away first, his lips pressed together in a thin line. She studied him, but now it was he who avoided her, looking everywhere but into her eyes. She was sure of it. But she was equally sure that he wasn't going to share whatever it was. She suspected it was more bad news, and his possible reasons for not wanting to tell her were setting her temper on edge.   
  


She clenched her jaw and pushed away the anger as she freed Angel of the last of his chains. That was getting harder and harder to do these days. She'd never been one to hide her feelings, and she'd always had a quick temper. But lately, it wasn't anger. It was fury. It was rage. It was a seething black emotion that bubbled up inside of her and clamored to be let loose. It was exhausting, frightening, and -at times- intoxicating.   
  


Sometimes she damned the woman whose memories she was gaining with agonizing slowness, and terrifying rapidity. She hated the way she felt so often these days. Hated the uncertainty that tainted her actions now. Hated the hesitation she felt as she wondered whether her instincts came from the Slayer, the demon, or from both. That was what was most startling to her, how often the two were in perfect accord. Kill. Slay. There wasn't a great deal of difference in the instincts it took to revel in either one. And Buffy had both.   
  


More often, she craved Kat's presence. She'd felt different since that day, of course. But she hadn't felt a new presence in her mind. With Katerina, even in the short time she'd known her, Buffy had known what it was to stand beside someone who understood her. Completely, utterly understood her. Faith and Kendra had each been like her in some way, they each had understood what it was like to be a Slayer. But they hadn't felt as kin to her as Kat, she'd never felt as comfortable with them as she had with Kat. And she regretted the loss. She regretted the questions she hadn't asked, and the time they hadn't spent. She hated her, but she missed her as well. She regretted the other woman's death more than others whom she'd known longer and better. Even . . .   
  


She pushed thoughts of Riley resolutely away. The soldier was dead and gone, but Buffy had avoided thinking about it. She'd tried not to think of him dying because they'd needed someone who loved her. Someone she hadn't loved back. She still denied it. She had loved Riley. She just hadn't loved him well enough. He'd deserved more than she could give, she knew that. She'd loved him because he was there, available, kind, and uncomplicated. But she hadn't taken him in, hadn't given herself to him as she had Angel. She hadn't been capable of giving him that. Now, staring at Angel who she'd once loved with all her being, she didn't think she was capable of love like that at all. Not anymore. And not because of the coldness of her skin. Because she'd lost the ability to love like that. She had no room for it. Her friends, her family; those were all she had room for now, and she could afford to love. And if she was honest with herself, which she could rarely afford to be these days, she was growing ever more distant from them as well. She was becoming the Slayer first, Buffy Summers second. In her more detached moments, she wondered if one day Buffy would evaporate. She wondered if Katerina would reclaim control when Buffy left. She doubted it. The kernel she held was too weak to even feel its presence; it couldn't be expected to have the strength to take over when she'd failed.   
  


Buffy snapped out of her dark thoughts as Cordelia reappeared, a wide, strained smile on her face. She nodded her gaze at the Seer. Whatever Angel was hiding, Cordelia knew as well. Buffy smiled slightly. Cordelia would be much easier to wheedle information out of. She resolved to pull the other girl aside as soon as possible and grill her. Cordy was oblivious to Buffy's pointed thoughts. "I heard a rumor that you came bearing food?"   
  


Gunn grinned. "Yup. General Chow's chicken for you, right?"   
  


Cordelia grinned. "You're a god, you know that?"   
  


He shrugged. "Emperor's enough for me. I'm a humble guy."   
  


Cordy snorted at that and made her way over to the counter and began pawing through the bags, emerging with a Styrofoam container, a plastic covered set of disposable utensils, and an egg roll. "Thanks. Angel, you need anything?" She paused and took in his newly de-chained stance. "Nevermind. If you want something you can get it yourself. In fact, get me a soda while you're at it, 'kay?"   
  


Angel grunted, but turned obediently toward the kitchen. Buffy watched him go, and then plopped onto his newly vacated love seat, ignoring the nearby demon. "So . . . nothing happened while we were gone? Nothing at all?"   
  


Cordelia avoided her eyes and shoveled a large chunk of chicken into her mouth. "Nu. Nuhding hampened ah awl" She spoke with difficulty around the food, then promptly started to choke.   
  


Gunn rolled his eyes and walked to the desk, handing her a napkin and thumping her helpfully on the back. "Chew Cordy. Food digests much easier when it's chewed into pieces smaller than Cleveland."   
  


Cordelia finished her coughing fit and glared weekly. "Thank you Bill Nye. I'll make a note of that." She turned her glared toward the distant kitchen. "Geez, think he could take a little longer with that drink? What'd he do, crawl there and back?"   
  


"Has anyone complimented you on your patience lately? Because if they have, they were lying." Buffy smiled, backing off of the interrogation she'd barely begun. Cordelia wasn't going to spill easily, and Buffy was simply too tired to keep working at it. She briefly wished that it were Spike she needed information from. Beating it out of people was much easier than trying to extract it non-violently. A brief grin touched her face at the thought of her former, nearly regular, Spike-beating sessions. Truthfully, she missed them a bit. Training with Giles just wasn't the same, Spike was a much more difficult opponent. Though Giles was no slouch, to give him his due.   
  


Giles . . . worry filled Buffy's mind again as the relief from Willow and Tara's rescue faded. Nothing was ever done. One danger averted, another two lingered. Buffy's world was like one immense Hydra-thing. The dragon Hercules chopped the heads off when James Woods tried to kill him. Every time she chopped off one head, two more sprang up in its place. She never got ahead, never lazed about with a sense of a job well done. She used to, when she was younger. These days she was never given a chance. She resented that. And right now she was worried for her Watcher. She really, really hated the damn Council. Giles and Wesley were obviously the only two good seeds to come out of there, and Wesley had been highly iffy in the beginning.   
  


Well . . . .maybe not the only good seeds. Memories of men -and women- she'd never met flashed briefly through her mind. They were the ones who had rebuilt the Council, after Kat had destroyed it, the ones who had fought with her. Some of them had defected, left the Council to fight with the Slayers. They had been rare, but they'd been there. She'd dreamt of some of them a few times. Sometimes, their faces, along with so many others, popped into her head, and for a moment she couldn't remember if they had been her allies, or Kat's.   
  


Angel's reappearance, bearing a cold can that he immediately tossed at Cordelia, caught her attention. He was staring at the door. Buffy tensed and turned toward the gaping doorway as well, expecting the blonde to waltz back through the doors. Instead Xander stepped through, a pale Faith and scowling Spike behind him. Cordelia waved at them, smiling widely. "Where were you guys? You missed the unchaining ceremony. And Gunn brought food!" Her smile was noticeably forced, her eyes shadowed. But those who'd just entered either didn't notice, or pretended not to. Buffy too let it slide. She'd find out eventually, and savor this break while she had it.   
  


Xander made a bee line for the food and returned Cordy's smile. "Talk later. Eat now."   
  


Faith, too headed for the food, though she was less enthusiastic about it. She dug carefully through the bag, coming up with a spoon and a carton of fried rice, which looked like a fasting diet next to the stack of cartons and containers Xander was attempting to juggle. Both carried their conquests over to the sofa, sitting down and digging in. Buffy watched, more than slightly amused as Angel and Spike, each unaware the other had done it, took a handful of cellophane wrapped fortune cookies each. They unwrapped them nearly simultaneously, Angel carefully reading the fortune and scowling as he shoved it into the pocket of his coat, Spike tossing his carelessly to the floor and idly pushing at it with the toe of his boot without bothering to look at it.   
  


Buffy turned her attention to Faith. The other girl was studiously avoiding her eyes, concentrating on the rice with careful scrutiny. She watched her for a long moment, then raised her eyes to focus on Xander, who stared back without flinching. "Where were you? We thought you'd beat us back?" It wasn't a question, she already knew. It was written all over Faith's face.   
  


He answered anyway. "We stopped to talk for a while. I filled Faith in on everything that's happened." He flinched at the sudden accusation in Buffy's eyes. "She needed to know Buff. You know that. I didn't give away state secrets or anything. Just brought her up to date on the status of everyone's superpowers, their origins, and the supervillains we're playing with these days."   
  


Buffy said nothing, Faith stared at the rice, her eyes veiled. Cordelia cleared her throat, glancing between the two of them. When she spoke, it was with a quiet authority that was utterly unlike the queenly bitchiness Buffy was so familiar with. "Alright. Angel and I need to be brought up to date on everything that happened, and you need to know what Faith found when she went after Glory. Let's get this out of the way, because then we've got another road trip." Xander gave her a grateful smile for the interruption   
  


Gunn blinked. "Where we going now?"   
  


Cordelia sighed. "Back to Caritas." She shook her head faintly as his expression shifted to one of deep alarm. "Not for Angel." He breathed a sigh of relief as Angel scowled. "So who wants to go first? Or should we wait for Willow and Tara?"   
  


Buffy shook her head. "I pretty much brought them up to speed on the way here, except for the stuff I don't know." She shot Cordelia and Angel each a piercing glance. Both looked away, guiltily until she went on. "We'll go first I guess." Buffy related what had happened, with the others adding details she'd forgotten, or comments she didn't need.   
  


When she was done, there was a long silence. Cordelia, her eyes on Angel, was the first to break it. "And Drusilla just . . . disappeared into the night? No trace of her to follow?"   
  


Buffy just shook her head. Spike spoke, an odd mix of pride, affection, and irritation coloring his voice. "Silly bint learned that from Angel. I never had the knack, liked to make an exit, not skulk off into the night like some great coward." He smiled slightly. "Plus Angelus is a bloody awful teacher, aren't ya, big fairy?"   
  


Angel ignored him, though his tense jaw seemed to tighten further. Buffy turned to Xander, her mouth open to ask something. Her question flew from her mind when she saw him staring wide-eyed at Angel, his gaze flicking occasionally toward Cordelia. There was horror, and fear, in his expression. Buffy's jaws snapped shut, a fierce expression crossing her face. "What's going on here? Xander, what did you hear? Angel, Cordelia, there's something you're not telling me. Tell me. Now."   
  


Angel shook his head. "Buffy, it's nothing. Not your problem right now."   
  


Xander turned to Buffy. "Buff, it's alright. You need to hear what Faith has to say though."   
  


Faith raised her eyes, startled. "What?"   
  


"What you told me-er, I mean what I heard in the car. About Glory."   
  


"Oh. Yeah." Faith sighed and balanced the rice precariously on the arm of the couch. "The Witchy duo should probably be here for that, though. It's more their side of the spectrum."   
  


"You rang?" Willow smiled as she entered. Her hair was still wet, and she wore a long skirt and a tight sweater top. The slit in the skirt was a good deal higher than the clothes she usually wore, and the sweater left much less to the imagination as well. She tugged at the sweater ineffectively as she entered, obviously a bit uncomfortable in it. "Thanks for the clothes Cordelia." She smiled at the girl as she sat on the sofa beside Xander, who scooted closer to Faith obligingly. "What's up? Tara's laying down for a few minutes. I didn't think you'd mind her taking over your bed for a bit Angel?"   
  


Angel shook his head. "No. It's fine. Is she okay? Are you okay?"   
  


Willow nodded. "I'm fine. And so's Tara. She's just-I mean it's just . . ." She hesitated. "Stuff like this. Life and death stuff. It's not all so old hat to her as it is to us, you know?"   
  


Angel nodded. "It'll take her some time to deal with what happened probably. She-"   
  


Buffy interrupted. "Faith. Go on." Her voice was clipped. Willow looked at her, surprise in her face. Xander shook his head at her in warning.   
  


Faith shrugged. "When I went after the blonde, Glory, I found her in a coffeehouse not too far from her, with those ugly things she brought with her. She did something . . . liked reached inside of the heads of these people. There was all this light and the person screamed . . . and then they just stopped. When she was done they just lay where she'd thrown them, completely blank. Like . . . nothing." She sighed as she remembered. "She saw me there. Reached right through those thick windows like it was plastic wrap and grabbed me. Said that it wasn't me she wanted. And the wounds, the ones we'd given her not ten minutes ago? Healed. Completely. It was like she didn't even miss a beat."   
  


Willow twisted her hands nervously. "It sounds like, I mean I wasn't there so I'm not sure, but it sounds like she's some kind of energy demon. Sucking out people's minds or something like that."   
  


Cordelia nodded. "That jives with what Angel and I found out. She reached for the folder Angel had been reading and held it up. "In here it lists Buffy as her primary target. Angel, Spike, Faith, and Xander are all listed in here as being non-targets. Like they don't want them dead. And look." She turned the folder over and showed the stamp. "Whoever she is, she was supplied with bios courtesy of Wolfram & Hart. You know, there's just not a word nasty enough for those guys."   
  


"But that-that doesn't make any sense." Willow frowned. "Energy demons can't work on . . well . . . it doesn't work on vampires." Her voice was uncertain as she glanced at the still glowering Buffy. "She can't want Buffy for that."   
  


Faith sighed. "There's more. Before I met up with B and the gang, and before I scoped out where the vamps had Red hidden, this . . . . child just appeared out of no where." She frowned. "She looked like a kid, but she felt . . . . I don't know. It was weird. She felt like this empty space that spoke. She felt like nothing. She creeped me out."   
  


"Anyways, this kid told me that the blonde is a Goddess named Glorificus, said she got tossed from some demon dimension or something. And she needs a Key to get home. The kid's the only one who knows where the Key is. If Glory gets the Key, she opens up a portal home. And our whole world goes to hell, because the gate can't be closed again." Faith sighed. "She said it a whole lot better."   
  


Buffy sighed. "How do we stop her? And where can we find this key? If we find it, and destroy it, then no gate, no portal, no apocalypse, right?"   
  


Faith shook her head. "She said . . .she said the key is stuck in a flesh form. Like a person. And if we kill it, we're killing an innocent person." She hesitated. "She said that the form was someone you all loved."   
  


"Giles." Buffy's voice was dead.   
  


Faith blinked. "How do you know it's Giles B? Could be lots of people."   
  


"Giles is missing. It makes sense."   
  


"Wesley's missing too you know. And it could be someone completely different, nothing to do with either of them." Cordelia's face seemed hung somewhere between despair and indignation that Buffy mentioned Giles without a word for Wesley.   
  


"Cordelia, I don't know what's trolling around in your beauty queen heart, if such a thing even exists, but Wesley was anything but loveable when I had to trot around Sunnydale on his orders. Yeah he was a help last time I saw him, and everyone tells me he's changed, and that's all fine and wonderful. But he's still not up there on my people I love list, alright? So if they picked him, it was a poor choice." Buffy's voice was sharp, her eyes hard.   
  


Cordelia glared back, her gaze as unrelenting as the Slayer's. "Why is he a poor choice, Ms. 'I'm Undead and have a humongous chip dancing around on my cold little shoulders?' Is it because you can go right ahead and kill him, without a qualm, go out for coffee and a doughnut afterwards?" In moments, the truce and grudging friendship the two had forged had seemingly vanished. The two stared at one another with as much animosity as they had in high school.   
  


Angel interceded, his voice carefully calm. "Cordelia, Buffy wouldn't kill Wesley. You know that."   
  


"I don't know anything." Cordelia's voice was full of pout, but behind it was a fear everyone heard. Each of them pretended that it was fear of something else, instead of what they each knew it was.   
  


Faith cleared her throat, eyes darting between the two women as she spoke. "The kid, she said that there's a time frame we're dealing with. Said she has to find the key before 'the next turn of the moon.' Whatever that means."   
  


"We HAVE to find Giles." There was a pause, and then Buffy added, a hint of mockery in her voice. "And Wesley. Before Glory does. All bags backed, all engines ready. We're going. Or I am." Her tone implied she didn't give much of a damn whether they came or not.   
  


Angel shook his head. "Buffy, we haven't a clue where they are. They could be back here, or off somewhere else. The Council has headquarters in places other than England, maybe they had to go there? We can't just go hunting for them with nothing to go on. And we can't run off hunting for needles when Glory's here playing in the big haystack." He softened his voice. "Buffy, come to Caritas. Maybe it's a long shot, but at least it's a shot. Do YOU know where to start looking?" She shook her head faintly. "Well, maybe the Host does."   
  


Buffy gritted her teeth. God she hated this. Hated being helpless. But she nodded curtly. Instantly, they all began to stand and move toward the door, Buffy in the lead. Belatedly she paused and turned to Willow. "Will? You want to stay here with Tara?"   
  


Willow bit her lip. "No . . . let me wake her up. She'd want to come. I don't want to, I mean . . . I don't think either of us is keen on any alone time right now."   
  


A flash of regret flashed through Buffy's expression before vanishing, then she nodded. Willow hurried toward the bedrooms as the rest of them began trouping back out to the cars.   
  


Gunn looked doubtfully at the vehicles, then back at their group. "Let it be known right now that no one with an abundance of testosterone is sitting on my lap."   
  


Buffy surveyed the situation with a sigh. "Okay, Angel and Xander drive. Boys in first, the rest of us will squeeze in . . . or on." Gunn groaned dramatically, but climbed in dutifully. Spike followed. Cordelia surveyed the situation, then sighed and climbed onto Gunn's lap, to his loud discomfort. Tara and Willow emerged a moment later, Buffy pushed them into the backseat of Angel's car, over their protests that they didn't need a whole seat to themselves. "Shut up. You're wounded. You get a backseat without the lap sitting option." She turned and slid into the backseat of Giles' car beside Spike, leaving Faith the front seat. She settled back as the cars pulled away, catching a lingering trace of Gunn and Cordelia's bickering and gave sincere thanks that she wasn't in the car with them.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


She couldn't believe she was doing this. Giles was missing, that Glory-God thing was out there, sicced on them by those wack-jobs at Wolfram & Hart, and she was walking into an LA demon bar to sing karaoke with her little friends. It didn't make sense. She ached to be somewhere else, to be doing something concrete, simple, and constructive. The euphoria over Tara and Willow's rescue had long since faded. In its place was the tired, aching tension that she'd become so accustomed to. The feeling that there was still so much left to do, that those she loved still weren't safe. And neither was she.   
  


She followed the rest of them, deliberately dragging her steps. It had to be late, or early rather. Maybe even nearing dawn. And they had driven here in two convertibles. Giles car she could forgive, as he wasn't a blood sucking fiend. But Angel? He had no sense of practicality.   
  


The place surprised her. She'd heard "demon karaoke bar" and immediately developed an image of a crowded, greasy biker type bar with scabby demons howling show tunes over the sound of an ongoing bar fight. Instead it was clean and surprisingly upscale. And it was anything but crowded, there weren't even a handful of people there, and no one was onstage. The bartender, who looked human in theory, was wiping down glasses and putting things away, obviously packing it in for the night-morning- whatever. In front of him, idly swirling an amber liquid around in a martini glass was a large green-skinned demon with small red horns. Which didn't unsettle her nearly as much as the bright yellow suit he was wearing.   
  


Angel led them all right to the lemon & lime tinted demon, who stared glumly into the glass, ignoring them until Angel tapped him on his shoulder. He finally turned to them with an expression of annoyance in his red eyes. "Angelcakes, in polite circles we say hello, or at least 'hey you.' Once you get past that five year old milestone, we no longer tap people to get their attention."   
  


Angel rolled his eyes, a faint smile touching his lips. "Must have missed that memo. I've got some people here you should meet." He gestured behind him.   
  


The Host, whom Buffy assumed this was, looked past him at the sizeable group. His eyes flipped past all of them, even those he'd never seen, with an eerie look of recognition. His gaze settled on Buffy, who now leaned against the bar with an affected look of boredom. "Let me guess. Betty, the Vampire Slayer right. Don't go advertising that in here. It'll be bad for business if word gets out that the Slayer and her people have taking to hanging their hat here. It's bad enough that the Trench coat King here comes in." He smiled slightly at Angel to show he was joking.   
  


Buffy glared. "It's BUFFY, not Betty. Not scoring high on the early psychic reading tests, Scales. Ms. Cleo got my name right at least."   
  


"Bet she charged more. And I don't have scales. Granted, I haven't had a good exfoliating scrub lately, but it's hardly to the scaled lizard skin point yet." The Host smiled at her, but there was something guarded in his expression.   
  


Cordelia plopped onto the stool next to him and flashed her patented Queen C thousand watt smile at the bartender. "Do you think I could please have a white wine spritzer?"   
  


The Host shook his head. "Have a heart Princess. Jeff's almost done cleaning up."   
  


She pouted. "Fine. Nevermind. This place is dead. I've been here this late before and it's usually a little more hopping than this. What's up?" A moment later Jeff, winking and smiling, handed her a drink. She flashed her smile again. "You're priceless. Thank you SO much."   
  


The Host shook his head. "Might want to dim that grin a bit. You'll blind potential suitors."   
  


She made a face at him then gestured toward the stage. "Much as we love this place and you, which you know we do. Except for the loving this place part, which really isn't your fault. It's just that we've come to associate it with Angel's ah-performances, so . . . ."   
  


"Say no more. Please. He looks like he's unhappy about having his vocal skills questioned." The Host grinned cheekily at a glowering Angel.   
  


Cordelia hurried on. "Anyways, this isn't a social call. Bad stuff happening. We need guidance, powers that be NOT cooperating with another useful vision for me, which is really okay with me. I haven't fully recuperated from the last one yet. Though this drink is helping greatly." She smiled at Jeff again. "So, yeah. Do your mojo thing. Buffy needs to sing. And who knows who else. Frankly, I think we should all have drinks before that happens, but since I have one, I don't care much one way or another."   
  


The Host shook his head. "No can do. It's closing time. In so many more ways than one." He swirled his drink again, his expression deeply morose, a look they'd never seen him give before.   
  


Angel frowned. "What are you talking about? It's important, and it won't take that long. Buffy, Xander, go pick songs. The rest of us-um, I mean you, can go if we don't learn enough from their songs."   
  


"Won't do any good, Angel. All I'll see is an off-key Slayer." He shot Buffy a glance. "Though feel free to surprise me and sing on key. It would be a welcome change. Or better yet why don't you go. Sing something appropriately depressing." He directed the last toward Faith, who smiled briefly.   
  


"What are you rattlin' on about Greenie?" Gunn was frowning, confusion in his face. Xander stood behind him, dark eyes fixed on The Host. His expression was nearly as bleak as the demon's.   
  


The Host sighed and set his glass down with a clink. He stood and turned to face all of them. "It's like this. Last couple of weeks I've been getting blanks." He rolled his eyes at their confused looks. "I mean I've been having customers go on stage and sing, and I see nothing. Just blankness. I wasn't too worried. It happens sometimes, when they're too distracted, or their minds are too caught up. But last few days, it has been happening more and more. I didn't say anything about it, 'cause I got readings from you and little Miss Springsteen, and the King of Bleach just fine. Then you left." He sighed. "Practically the minute you walked out the door everything went to hell. Nineteen singers have graced that stage since you left. For all but four of 'em, I didn't see anything. Not one thing. It's like . . ." He trailed off for a long moment, then started again. "It's like there's no future for any of them. Or the future's too muddled to see."   
  


Xander frowned. "That's not true. You saw something for some of them. Something small."   
  


The Host glanced at him. "Hmm . . . . Mind reader eh? You guys are rare these days I've heard. Thought I saw a glimpse of that in William's vision earlier. Wasn't sure though."   
  


"So he's right though? You saw something small?" Buffy's eyes were fixed on The Host.   
  


"A few times. Flashes. But they made no sense. Some of them were so off the wall. Like an accountant I do monthly readings for? Nice enough guy, not the biggest tax-evader in his business, but does his fair share. Not a bad person though. Usually I see normal things for him. Dates, promotions, traffic tickets. Mundane stuff." He saw Cordelia roll her eyes and winked at her. "Not everyone can have big, evil-fighting destinies Princess. Some of us have to work in retail." He continued. "Anyway, usually it's a snoozefest when I read him, right. Today, after you left, he hops up on stage, does a passable version of 'Like a Virgin' if you can believe it, and I get nothing for half the song. Suddenly this dim flashbulb of an image hits me. I see Harry, the accountant, looking like a hobo, skulking down the streets in broad daylight, hitting the trashcans for food. Very un-Harry like behavior. The man's afraid of germs. Doesn't touch anything if it hasn't been sterilized."   
  


"So, what's that supposed to mean to us, exactly?" Angel's fingers were drumming incessantly on the bar, to the annoyance of the rest of his group.   
  


"Not a clue really. All I can tell you, is it was like seeing a Harry from a different world. Like an evil twin. Well not evil maybe. Just homeless with no fashion sense and poor hygiene." The Host shook his head sadly. "My gift's not like Cordy's. I don't get a vision of what will happen if I don't change it. I get . . . shades of gray. Possibilities. Usually I see a few scenarios, what COULD happen, and one will shine a little brighter than the others because it's the most likely. But this . . ." He sighed heavily. "Harry's, and a few others, were so far from the realm of possibilities I usually see, they made no sense. And the rest was all black. It's like . . . all the possibilities and probables are flowing away."   
  


They all wore near identical expressions of confusion. Only Faith looked any different, her expression oddly detached, as if looking at something deep within her own mind. "It's all flowing away." She muttered beneath her breath, brow furrowed in thought. Suddenly her face animated. "Drusilla!"   
  


Spike turned to her, understanding blossoming. "She can't see either. That's why-"   
  


"She staked Darla." Xander finished. "Because she saw that Darla was going to get staked, but not how, and decided that was the best way."   
  


Angel, Cordelia, and Buffy glanced between the three of them. Buffy sighed and spoke for them all. "Huh?"   
  


Spike smiled. "Catch up Slayer. You were there. Dru was babbling on all kinds of nonsense about stuff like this. About not seeing the future anymore and being alone in her own head. And seeing Darla dust. That must have been one of the last things she saw . . ."   
  


"So she did it herself. Makes perfect sense, in a crazy insane vampire sort of way." Buffy smiled grimly. "So, the question is why? What does all this mean? Why would all these future seeing peoples not being seeing the future anymore?"   
  


"Want my guess?" The Host leaned back against the bar in a deceptively casual pose. "You won't like it."   
  


"Shoot. We're big boys and girls. We can take it." Buffy reached over and grabbed Angel's fingers, stopping the drumming before it drove her crazy. Spike did that. Xander too. When they were nervous, or upset they couldn't hold still, had to move somehow. Willow could hold still. She'd fidget a bit, but usually just bury her nose in a book and try to find a way to fix it. Xander would get up and prowl every few minutes. And Spike just never sat down. Angel used to be able to hold still. He could sit in that silent, eerie still way for hours when it suited him. He only drummed and paced when he was hiding something.   
  


"Sure you can sweetie. Unfortunately, I don't think I can." The Host sank back onto his stool. "I think there's something big, bad, powerful and new floating around. And I think it's going to change the whole world. And I think the new world it makes is going to be a less than pretty place."   
  


"Thanks. That was suitably vague. Maybe you're up there with Ms. Cleo after all." Buffy snapped. "How come no one ever has a single straight answer? Why do we always have to muddle through until we pull off some miraculous save at the end, despite the fact that we have next to no clue what we're doing? Just once I'd like to have more than twenty-four hours notice of impending doom, so we can properly prepare."   
  


"Well there is always option number two, which might work out better for you but isn't really sunshine and daisies for me." The Host took a long gulp, finishing his much played with drink. "Seers and others dancing 'round in this business, we don't usually have a good handle on stuff that has to do with our own little selves. So maybe I'm seeing nothing 'cause that's what my future is. A big dark slab of nothing." He sighed again. "Such cheerful thoughts make another drink a necessity." He turned to see Jeff already handing it to him, retrieving the empty glass. "The man's a saint. He should be molded into stone and worshiped." He smiled at the bartender. Jeff smiled back and handed him a napkin, glancing at the others to see if they had drink orders. The cleaning up process had obviously been abandoned for the moment.   
  


"So nineteen people, but you saw a couple of those right? So there's a chance you could help us." Buffy paid no attention to The Host's aura of impending doom, earning her a frown from the more sympathetic members of her party.   
  


The Host waved toward the stage weakly. "Go ahead. Give it a whirl. It's your funeral. Well, actually it's probably mine, but who's keeping track?"   
  


"Alright, fine. Let's try it. Where's the song list?" Buffy was speaking in short, terse sentences, her mind almost visibly whirring through a cavalcade of thoughts.   
  


"It's by the stage. All the way over there. Near the machine I'll have to get up to turn on unless I can learn how to access the powers of my mind to push the button. How 'bout you just sit there and sing a couple verses of "Henry the Eighth" for me? Much less taxing."   
  


Buffy gave a strange, rueful half smile. "If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it all the way. Complete with microphone and music. Otherwise it won't match the nightmares I've had on the subject."   
  


The Host shrugged and stood. "Just a guess dollface, but I'm betting your nightmares include things more nasty than a night of karaoke gone wrong."   
  


Xander shook his head. "It all depends on your perspective I think. Big nasty, slimy, drippy, fangy creatures hunting you . . . no big whoop. Naked in Wal-Mart. Now there's a nightmare worthy of a scream."   
  


"Thanks for that fascinating little trip into your psyche. Wish Dr. Freud was here. He'd get a heck of a kick out of analyzing you. You don't dream of tunnels and clouds often do you?"   
  


Xander frowned. "Why? What does cloud dreams mean?" He smiled belatedly. "Oh yeah. Freud's dead. Don't think he'll have much to say about my dreams."   
  


"Undead actually. And he's not so much into the psychological stuff these days. Still likes his pretty white powder though. I have to have him carried out of here every few months after a snort and drink fest." The Host pushed the book into Buffy's hands and walked up the stairs to begin fiddling with the karaoke machine.   
  


They all blinked. Xander shook his head. "Freud is a vampire? Any other famous historical figures still floating around that you can tell us about?"   
  


"None that you'd know anything about. Kids these days have no sense of history." The Host smiled over his shoulder as he stood. He then sank onto a stool, awaiting their decisions.   
  


Buffy glanced behind her, noticing that the handful of customers that had been there when they entered had already filtered out. She wasn't relieved. She'd rather strangers see her humiliation than her friends, who could -and would- bring it up on future occasions. She started leafing through the book when Xander pulled it away from her. "I'll go first Buff. Break the ice and all."   
  


She glared at him. "Why should you go? It's not you this god's after. And it's not your Watcher that's missing."   
  


"No, it's not. But this is what I came here to do. And chances are if he sees anything to help me, it'll help you too. I'm just stacking the odds Buffy. If he can't see you, maybe he'll see me. And if not me, maybe Cordelia, or Gunn, or Willow, or Tara. We'll run through the whole list if we have to. It's worth a shot. We don't have much to go on here, we need the help." He cracked a crooked smile. "Besides, did you really want to go right away?"   
  


She glanced up at the stage, where The Host waited, arms crossed over his chest. "No. Not really."   
  


"Then it's settled. I'll embarrass myself first, you can humiliate yourself as a follow-up."   
  


Buffy snorted. "Wonderful. I feel so much better now."   
  


"I'm here to help." Xander opened the book, scanning the pages doubtfully as Buffy leaned over his shoulder. "Any ideas?"   
  


She shook her head. "Nothing springing to mind yet." Her fingers flipped another page and her eyes widened. "I love this song." Suddenly she stopped, finger hovering over the song hesitantly as she softly added. "I think."   
  


Xander smiled sadly. "You both liked it I think Buff. I remember you listening to it in high school."   
  


She smiled weakly. "I can't always tell which memories are mine, and which are hers anymore." She sighed. "But I know the words. I'll mangle it, but what the hell. Beats Cindy Lauper, right?"   
  


The Host, eavesdropping without a hint of guilt, nodded emphatically. "Definitely. If I hear 'Girls Just Wanna have fun' one more time, I'm going to dive off of a skyscraper."   
  


Buffy gave him a brief glare, which he ignored. "You know what you want to do Xander?" 

He shook his head. "No. Not yet. Give me another minute."   
  


"I'll go first." She raised her hand to forestall his protests. "I already know what I'm singing. And time is money. Well, not literally in this case, but I might as well get it over." She told the Host what song to load, and he nodded with a look of mingled disgust and surprise. Buffy smiled, the expression feeling almost foreign on her lips. "Guess he's not a fan."   
  


"I think he's more of an old fashioned, crooner type of guy." Xander smiled. "I'm surprised it's even in the song list, really."   
  


The Host waved a hand in disgust. "One must bow to popular demand. Even if it is the demands of a bunch of tasteless children with no appreciation for the finer things in life."   
  


Buffy scowled. "Hey! I resent that." She smiled looked at Xander for a long moment. "It's weird isn't it, that she knows it? I mean, when did she have time to get into the grunge scene?"   
  


He shook his head. "I don't know Buff. Same time she had to get into comic books and Harry Potter. She was an odd mix." They were both silent for a moment before Xander shook his head again. "Give me another minute Buff. I'll go first, then maybe you won't have to go."   
  


She started to protest again, irritated by his persistence when she paused and looked at him. He didn't want her to go at all. It was in his eyes. She studied him for a long moment. "You're afraid of what he might see in me." She said softly.   
  


A pained expression settled on his face. "Buff, it's not- I mean . . ."   
  


Buffy was silent a moment, then gave him a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Pick your poison, Xander. I'm off to ruin a great song." She turned and climbed onto the stage as the Host walked out to meet her. Xander watched her go, she felt his gaze on her back.   
  


"It's just you and yours in here sweetie. Want to forget the microphone? They might not even be able to hear you, since they're skulking in the back for some reason." The Host carefully avoided her eyes, obviously having overheard the exchange.   
  


She shook her head at him. "I don't really care." And she realized, with a flash of surprise, that she didn't. It didn't matter. It was just something she had to do, she wasn't embarrassed. Faintly, some part of her thought that she SHOULD be. She ignored it.   
  


The Host settled back into his seat as the music began to play. She closed her eyes and sang the words she wasn't sure if she remembered, though she knew them well. As she sang, she smiled to herself, thinking that sections of the words held an odd resonance for her. She also wondered, almost idly, what songs the others chose when they sang.   
  


_"I seem to recognize your face._

_Haunting, familiar, yet I can't seem to place it._

_Cannot find the candle of thought to light your name._

_Lifetimes are catching up with me."_   
  


_"All these changes taking place..._

_I wish I'd seen the place,_

_But no one's ever taken me."_   
  


_"Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away..."_   
  


She felt their eyes on her from the back of the room and wondered, almost idly whether they could hear her, and whether that should matter to her. She remembered, for just a moment, sitting in a room surrounded by sunlight and flowers and hearing this song for the first time. It was nearly the last line before she realized that she'd first heard it in a car, driving home with her father from a shopping trip. He hadn't liked it. But then he'd never considered anything more modern than the Bay City Rollers to be real music.   
  


"_I swear I recognize your breath._

_Memories, like fingerprints, are slowly raising._

_Me, you wouldn't recall, for I'm not my former._

_It's hard when you're stuck upon the shelf."_   
  


_"I changed by not changing at all..._

_Small town predicts my fate,_

_Perhaps that's what no one wants to see."_   
  


_"I just want to scream...hello..._

_My god its been so long, never dreamed you'd return._

_But now here you are, and here I am."_

_"Hearts and thoughts they fade away."_

_"Hearts and thoughts they fade, fade away..._"   
  


She finished, letting her voice trail off. It hadn't been a good rendition. It hadn't been a passing rendition. She looked to the green demon who still perched on his stool. He shook his head. "Honey, there's so much in you I should see. But it's all black. Maybe it's better that way."   
  


She smiled faintly. "Better for who?" She stepped tiredly from the stage, vaguely hearing Cordelia's voice, stridently complaining about the unfairness of Buffy getting to sing so no one but The Host and Xander could hear.   
  


Xander fidgeted nervously. Buffy tried to offer him a smile, but it wouldn't come. Suddenly, inexplicably, she was unbelievably weary. She sank into a chair just in front of the stage and leaned her head on her hand, watching as Xander stepped on stage. She heard the Host's surprise over Xander's choice. "What? No Backstreet Boys?"   
  


Xander snorted in disgust and stepped away, barely on stage as the Host again allowed him to not make use of the microphone. When the music started, Buffy didn't recognize the song. And when Xander began, she still didn't. She only recognized that it didn't sound like a song Xander would particularly like.   
  


_"The birds they sang_

_at the break of day_

_Start again_

_I heard them say_

_Don't dwell on what_

_has passed away_

_or what is yet to be"._   
  


_"Ah the wars they will_

_be fought again_

_The holy dove_

_She will be caught again_

_bought and sold_

_and bought again_

_the dove is never free._"   
  


"It's Leonard Cohen." A soft voice in her ear startled Buffy. She turned her head to see Willow sitting down next to her. "Xander's mom used to listen to him. Xander wouldn't admit that he liked him too until he moved into the basement." She shook her head slightly. "I wouldn't have expected him to pick this." Her eyes moved to Buffy, worry shining clear in them. "Buffy, are you alright?"   
  


Buffy nodded automatically. "I'm fine."   
  


"I've seen what you look like when you're fine. It bears almost no resemblance to this." Her gaze flicked back up to the stage, then settled on Buffy again. "Buffy, it'll be okay. Tara and I are fine, and we-we'll figure out this Glory thing and beat her. And then-"   
  


"And then what Will? We'll find Giles and Wesley? Bury the remains if we're a little too late? And after that? And then again after that?" Buffy's voice held little emotion. She spoke simply, honestly. "When is it over?"   
  


Willow hesitated. "Buffy, I know-I-I mean . . . it's not." The Slayer's eyes settled on her and the redheaded with flushed faintly. "It's, like our job. There's always going to be evil, and there's always going to be good to fight it. We're the good. Right? It's what we do."   
  


"No. We're not." Buffy's voice was clipped, utterly emotionless now. Her eyes had returned to Xander, who was still finishing his rather long song. He wasn't bad, really. Not in line for a Broadway gig, but pleasant enough. Better than she had been, at any rate. "We're not. I am. You're along for the ride because that's where the wind blew. But it's not your job. It's mine."   
  


A look of deep hurt crossed Willow's pale, bruised face. But she had no time to say anything. A muffled gasp and thud came from just behind the curtain, where the Host had been. Willow jumped to her feet as Xander dropped his microphone and rushed forward, song unfinished. The rest came from t heir places in the back, concern and hope lining their faces. Buffy remained in her seat, her cheek in her hand, eyes half closed.   
  


She listened as the others asked, in a flurry of loud voices, if The Host was alright. He emerged a moment later, helped by Xander on one side, Gunn on the other. They moved him carefully down the stage steps and into the chair beside Buffy. The others yanked chairs from nearby and crowded in. Buffy resisted the urge to move away, wishing for nothing more than space and quiet. 

The Host cracked open his eyes. They were redder than they had been, and his green face looked decidedly yellow, clashing with his lemon suit. His gaze flicked from Angel to Cordelia to Buffy. They remained there for a long moment before finally shifting to Xander, who stared unflinchingly back. When the demon spoke, his affected voice was raspier, throatier; it was the voice of man - or creature- in deep pain. He spoke to Xander, ignoring the rest. "You should have told her before." His tone was sad, accusing, and fearful all at once.   
  


Swiftly exchanged glances transferred from person to person. Only four were exempt. Cordelia and Xander went pale and guilty, Angel's face tightened, his eyes going more deeply hooded than they had been. Buffy merely sat up and looked at Xander. She felt nothing. No anger, no worry, no fear. She knew the demon was talking about her. She knew there was something horrible they hadn't told her. There always was. She was just tired. Too tired for this. She asked anyway. Because it was expected of her. Because if she didn't, someone else would. "What didn't you tell me Xander?"   
  


Xander looked at her with haunted dark eyes. She realized, not without a spark of surprise, that he was no longer the boy she'd called a friend for years. Like her, he wasn't young anymore. He was a man now. And though regret was in his expression, there was no recrimination. He didn't regret his decision. It was in his voice as well. The confidence in his decision, even if it had been wrong. "Buffy, Wolfram & Hart have Giles and Wesley. They called Angel while we were gone. Giles is injured. Wesley . . . Wesley didn't say much, but he sounded like it might be bad."   
  


An uproar sounded. Willow and Tara both rounded on Xander furiously, demanding to know why he hadn't said anything. Cordelia immediately tore into Angel, saying they shouldn't have tried to hide it. Gunn was demanding to know what had happened, Spike began harassing the Host for the rest of the details to no avail. Only the Slayers remained silent. Buffy felt a soft touch on her arm and turned to see Faith sitting beside her. The other Slayer's face was drawn, dark eyes fighting tears. "Buffy . . . why would they want them?"   
  


Buffy studied her. Faith seemed genuinely afraid. "Why do you care?" There was no malice in the question. Only curiosity.   
  


Faith flinched, her expression closing, becoming defensive as she sat up, folding her arms over her chest. "I just do, that alright with you?"   
  


"I don't care." Buffy waited, her mind surprisingly empty. Giles . . . a dull pang of pain ran through her. It should have been sharper she thought. But she was so tired, and it was so pointless to feel anything. To invest emotion only made it worse. Better to be ambivalent, distant. The Slayer first, Buffy later, when things were alright again. Except they never were alright. "I don't care what matters to you at all."   
  


The din died away and all eyes returned to the red-eyed demon, who stared at Buffy now with an unblinking gaze. They all waited. She was tired of waiting. "What did you see?"   
  


He shook his head, and she waited. She expected death, destruction, and mayhem. She expected the end of the world and everything she loved razed to the ground and dying. And she was too tired to do more than expect it. He took a deep breath and Buffy could hear it catch in his throat and rattle miserably before escaping as a sobbing sigh because she heard things that humans, even Slayers, were never meant to. "I saw the next ten minutes." His eyes cleared, and the emotion in them was unclear; part acceptance, part resentment, part gratification. "With all the things I've seen in Angel's head, I always thought I'd rather like you." He smiled faintly. "I don't know if I was wrong or not."   
  


"Did. You. See. Giles?" Each word was clipped, a sentence unto itself. Buffy felt herself speaking as if from far away. "Is he dead yet?"   
  


Angel's shocked voice intervened. "Buffy. He's alive. Giles isn't dead. Wesley said he was alive."   
  


Buffy looked at him, and he recoiled from the look in her eyes. She smiled, not noticing. "My Watcher's alive. But not for long, right? The whole world's gonna go to hell, isn't it Big Green?"   
  


"Actually, hell's going to come to the world. But why bother with semantics. Either way, it'll liven this gloomy little dump of a dimension right up." The voice that interrupted was strange and familiar at the same time. Buffy turned as if in slow motion and stared into the eyes of the blonde goddess, Glory. She was alone this time, arrogant in the knowledge that she didn't need help against them. The goddess smiled. "And I could have told you about your little Watcher. Wasn't going to. See, my lawyer called me all in a tizzy about another lawyer trying to foil her little plans by bringing your Watchers into it somehow. And I don't know how you managed to get two Watchers little girl, I thought the deal was one per bag of Slayer flesh, but kudos to you."   
  


The world moved. People all around her leapt to their feet, as three remained where they were. Buffy sat, head cradled on her hand, Xander sat, wide eyes fastened on The Host, who slumped in his seat, looking drained and hopeless. Xander spun and leapt to his feet, pulling desperately at Buffy's arm. "Buffy we have to leave here. Now!"   
  


She let him tug her to her feet, but then she didn't move, her feet planted she stood unflinching, watching as they began to wage battle against the immovable goddess, who seemed, if anything, stronger than before. Her eyes drifted past Glory to the bar, and the mirrors behind it. She saw Xander, pulling at something. But she saw nothing in her own place. And she believed it. She was nothing. Because it was what she wanted.   
  


Glory moved forward, shrugging off her attackers. Bodies flew in every direction, coming back again and again. None of them were injured, they were just hurled away, as if Glory couldn't be bothered making the distinction of who to kill and who not to anymore. Instead, she didn't kill any of them, and simply went after the one she wanted. "Me. You want me." Buffy spoke out loud.   
  


Glory laughed. "Honey, I don't care a rat's ass about you. But someone else does, and they know where my pretty, shining key home is. So sorry sister, but your ticket's up."   
  


"They Key!!" Xander yelled, and, in a haze of vague disbelief, Buffy saw Xander kick out at The Host. "Bastard! You should have told us! You hid it on purpose!"   
  


The Host shrugged. "Won't do any good either way kid. Know or don't know, she's a goner." He reached beneath the table and, with a strength Buffy hadn't suspected he had, snapped off the end of the table leg.   
  


Xander turned back to Buffy as Glory flung him away, moving closer to Buffy. The volume of the room was thunderous as her friends and loved ones tried desperately to save her. She heard it as the buzz of distant bees, saw Glory's approach from a hazy, uncaring distance. She sank into a pool of warmth, drowning in memories and nothingness. A memory from a long forgotten English class surfaced. She remembered Willow at her side, Xander behind, the shrill laugh of Cordelia as she flirted with the Quarterback in the back of the class. And her own voice, reading inelegantly from a book of poetry. She spoke it aloud as she remembered it.   
  


_"Nobody heard him, the dead man,_

_But still he lay moaning:_

_I was much further out than you thought_

_And not waving but drowning."_   
  


Xander's came at her from the distance. Dimly, Buffy realized he wasn't speaking aloud, but into her mind. "Buffy! You can't! Run! Fight! We need you! Dawn is her Key! Glory will kill Dawn! The Host saw it! Your sister, Buffy. She needs you."   
  


A flash of something raced through her mind, memories of Dawn, of her slender, long haired sister arguing laughing . . and nothing. She couldn't save her. She couldn't save something that didn't exist. She forced her head to turn and looked at Xander and answered him aloud. "She's not my sister." She saw the truth, saw what she had been given to protect, and felt a stab of sadness that she couldn't fulfill it. She pulled herself from the water for a moment and her eyes sought Faith, who was scrambling to her feet yet again to fling herself at Glory. She smiled at the other Slayer, who looked confused and afraid and stopped to look back at her. Buffy's smile turned sad. "They should have given her to you." And then Glory was on her. For a moment, she felt a shade of herself again as the look she gave the God turned to a glare. "Bitch."   
  


"Buffy!" Xander's howl was echoed by others as Glory's hands closed around her head, but she didn't hear. She felt the hands, she closed her eyes, and she let herself drown.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	10. Deployment

Part Nine: Deployment "I am become Death, the Shatterer of worlds." -- The Bhagavad-Gita   
  
  
  


The goddess screamed Her normal voice sounded like the voice of any human, but in pain, she became otherworldly, her shrieking agony an assault on their ears that seemed to last forever. Faith lifted her hands to her ears and cringed. Glory's hands, grasping Buffy's head with fingers that looked more like claws now were surrounded by what Faith could only think of as black light. She wondered if maybe it was the lack of light. It was utterly unlike the glowing she'd seen when Glory had attacked the people at the coffeehouse. The god seemed to be trying to snatch her hands away, but couldn't, as if they were glued there by the strange sphere of dark light. Buffy's eyes were screwed shut, hands clenched at her sides.   
  


The shrieking came to a halt finally, as Glory wrenched her hands away from the Slayer's head. Her formerly perfectly manicured fingers were now gnarled and grotesque. Pain turned the god's lovely face haggard, and blood ran from her lip where she'd bitten through it. Faith began moving toward her. The god was weakened. Faith didn't really understand why, but she knew enough to take advantage of it.   
  


Glory saw her coming. "Back off girl. You're going to have enough to deal with honey. She beat me to the punch. Doesn't matter, my deal's done. Next time I see any of you, I'll be rid of this dimension, and back to playing in my own, as it should be." Faith leapt, but even weak, the god was strong enough to throw her off. She made it to the door with a few more swift flinging attacks. Within a heartbeat, Glory was gone.   
  


The all moved toward Buffy. Xander was nearest, but it was Faith who spoke, her instincts crawling with fear. "Buffy?"   
  


The other Slayer's eyes snapped open. There was no great difference, green eyes, beautiful face. The weariness was gone, the shadows beneath the eyes had vanished. But when Faith met Buffy's gaze, her heart seemed to halt its beat. In the green eyes dwelled something Faith had never seen before. Buffy smiled, and Faith knew, with certainty, that it wasn't Buffy. Not anymore.   
  


She looked for a stake, reaching for the nearest table to snap off a piece of wood. The others were gathering, pressing in on the four of them. Buffy stood beside the table where Glory had left her, Xander approaching her from the back, The Host still seated at the table in front of her. "Buffy?" Xander's voice was afraid, and the blonde Slayer half-turned to face him. As soon as she turned, The Host rose to his feet, his movements swifter than anyone could have expected. He held the jagged, broken off table leg and shoved it toward Buffy's unprotected back. "Buffy! Look out!" Xander, not understanding or still denying the truth, shoved the demon that had been his friend aside and The Host's attack ended in an awkward half falling lunge.   
  


Buffy turned back around, and her face was the face of a true vampire. Yellow eyed with jutting fangs and ridges, her beauty was erased. Her body swept forward, and everyone was appalled as they saw, once again, her speed. No one could raise a hand to stop her before she was finished.   
  


They nearly didn't see, it was so fast. One second, Buffy stood in front of them, the next she stood beside The Host, and they heard the sickening crack of breaking bones. As his body slumped to the ground, neck cruelly twisted, Buffy's hands went to her hips, and her face slid back into the one they knew so well. But there was nothing of their Buffy in the smile she sent toward Xander. "Thanks for the tip, Xan. It was a big help."   
  


Faith snapped the corner from a table and moved toward her, almost without conscious thought. A hand on her arm stopped her. Angel stood, his eyes on Buffy but his hand on her arm. Stopping her. Faith followed his gaze again to see Buffy staring back, a seductive smile on her face. But it wasn't directed at Angel, it was for Spike. And Spike was staring at her with the expression a starving man gives a plate of rotting food; deep disgust mingled with unequaled longing. Faith looked back at Angel and saw the misery in him. She pulled away. "Angel . . . . we have to."   
  


He didn't answer, but Buffy did. She turned back to him, her smile turning colder. "You have to what, Faith? I'd have thought you'd be into this. Five by Five and all. After all, if one Slayer goes to the dark side, than you're all alone on the Slayer side of the Force, isn't that right. And we both know you always wanted to be the only Supergirl at the party. Must have hurt to know you weren't the only one. Must have hurt worse to know you were only second best. After all, I've kicked your ass on way more occasions than you have mine. But what the heck, want to give it one more go, Faith?" Buffy slunk forward, and more than ever Faith saw the hunter in her. She was a predator, more than any vampire they'd seen. She was twice over a killer, Slayer and vampire.   
  


Faith winced. She spoke with the same rhythms as Buffy, she said things that Buffy had probably thought a thousand times. But she wasn't Buffy. She was what Buffy would have hated most. Faith stepped toward her once more but Angel halted her, again. "We can't. Buffy . . . We can't. There's a way. We'll fix it." His voice sounded distant, as if he could hardly speak.   
  


Buffy looked at him, and her smile widened. "You can't, is that right, Angelus? I could. Do you remember? It took a while, but all those cute little things you did to make me angry worked eventually. I split you open and sent you to hell. Cried for months. Bet you didn't know that part, huh? But I was wrong." She faked a look of deep contrition.. "I was wrong to try to restore you. Though I'm glad I stopped you, this world has its merits, as someone once told me." Again, her eyes turned to Spike, a flirtatious grin touching her lips. It was over quickly, her attention back on Angel. "Things are different Angel. And much as you'll agonize over it in the time to come, you'll always want me. And now . . ." She smiled at him now, the same flirty, daring grin she'd given Spike. "Now you could have me. Forever. No strings, no anything. Just let me play with the real you, Angel. Come on. Imagine what fun Angelus could have with THIS Slayer." Her eyes flicked to Spike again. "But make a quick decision. There are other equally appealing options you know." She laughed, and it was nothing like Buffy's laughter. Faith remembered Buffy's laugh from before they'd become enemies. It had been warm and light and filling. Now it was cold, empty, unsettling. She wrenched away from Angel and started to sweep forward, moving quickly. Angel was fast though, and he half tackled her to stop her, muttering about waiting, finding another way, giving them a chance to try. Faith half hated him right then. There wasn't another way. Buffy's soul hadn't been taken, she'd let it go. She was done. Now they just had to finish off what was left so she could be truly gone.   
  


She tried to push him off, but he was heavy and Buffy was fast. She was moving toward the exits, leaving. Faith felt a flash of despair. Xander moved forward, grabbing the table leg from Host's dead hand as he ran, determination on his face. He would be too slow.   
  


Spike stood in the Slayer's way. Faith shouted his name, not sure if he'd do anything. She wasn't certain whether she was surprised when she saw him lash out with one leg, tripping Buffy as she went past, sending the Slayer careening into the bar, where she grabbed on heavily to keep from falling. Xander yelled Spike's name as well, and threw him the makeshift stake. Spike caught it, and looked at it like a foreign object. But he ran forward, and he attacked.   
  


Faith knew he couldn't succeed. She was too fast, too wary, and he was too torn. Buffy halted him with a hand to the wrist, flinging the stake away as the bones of Spike's wrist made an odd crunching noise. She pulled him toward her, and her face vamped as she glared and hissed. "You just lost a few points, William. Remember your priorities, vampire. I could give you now what I never could before. The girl I was may have preferred Angel . . . . but I'm not exactly her." She smiled again, and, face still shifted, kissed him her fangs breaking the skin of his lips. Then, with a shove that sent him sprawling into the rapidly approaching Xander and Gunn, she was gone.   
  


Faith sagged onto the floor, Angel laying half on her, his body limp and heavy. She lay there a moment, a thousand thoughts running through her brain. Then she rose, shrugging the vampire off with a jerk and rising to her feet. The others stood around, faces slack, eyes wide. Angel still lay where she'd shoved him, his eyes shut, his world in tatters. She looked at him, and a notion ran through her mind. He was useless. She shoved it away, thinking it too cruel. But it lingered. Angel wasn't going to lead them. Someone else would have to. Giles was gone. Wesley was gone. Angel was limp on the floor and Buffy was dead. She pushed away the massive tangle of emotions that throbbed in her head and focused on one thing. She was the Slayer, and there was a vampire to slay. It was simple, direct, easy, and honest. She ignored who the vampire was, and who would want to protect her.   
  


Faith turned to stare at Xander. He was pale and glitter-eyed. He looked like a man who'd watched a war break around him. Shell-Shocked. She stepped in front of him, catching his attention. He barely seemed to recognize her. "Xander, where did she go?"   
  


He blinked at her. "Wh-what?"   
  


She repeated it, her voice neutral but firm. "Where did Buffy go? Find out Xander. You're the only one who can."   
  


"Oh. Okay." Xander tilted his head awkwardly, eyes closed. He didn't open them when he spoke. "Wolfram & Hart. That's where she's going. She doesn't know where it is yet, but she will." His eyes finally blinked open. "Why?" It was a stupid question, but he didn't seem to know that. For a moment, he looked very like the boy he'd been when Faith first met him, easily misled and innocent in an odd way, waiting for someone else to solve the problem for him, as Buffy had done so often.   
  


Faith hesitated and turned her head. Angel had climbed to his feet and stood, leaning heavily on a chair. His eyes locked with hers, and there was pleading in them. Angel had helped her when she had least deserved it. He'd trusted her when no one else ever would. He knew what she was going to try to do. He knew he couldn't stop her. And he wouldn't ask. He couldn't ask her to go against the nature she'd so recently made peace with. Not out loud anyway. But his eyes asked. Her eyes traveled past him to the floor near the stage, where the body of The Host lay, neck bent awkwardly. Finally she looked at Spike. It was his blue eyes she met and stared into when she answered. "I'm going to find her, and I'm going to stake her." She could have said more. Could have said that she knew it was what Buffy would have wanted. She could have said that she didn't know if she'd be able to do it. She could have said she was sorry. But she didn't.   
  


"You can't. We'll fix her. I did the spell on Angel, I'll do it on Buffy too." Willow's voice spoke up, and Faith started at the iron in the girl's tone. Willow stood, Tara a shadow at her back. The red head was thrown back, the gaze hard. She stared at Faith defiantly. "I won't let you kill her."   
  


Animosity rose up in Faith as she remembered Willow's dislike of her. "Think you can stop me, Red? Welcome to try."   
  


"I can stop you." There was confidence in the tone, and perhaps a twinge of relish.   
  


"Faith, let her try. Maybe we can bring her back before. . ." Angel's voice was quiet, clinging to a fragile hope.   
  


Faith felt her resolve weaken, started to nod her assent. Spike's voice startled her. "No. She's right. We have to kill her."   
  


Angel's face darkened. "You don't know what you're talking about Spike. Her soul was taken, there's-"   
  


"I don't know what I'm talking about? You think you have a lock on the girl, Angel? Think you know all there is to know? You don't know a damn thing. Did you see what happened? Were you watching?" Spike's shocked expression had shifted to one of desperate fury. "That God, she reached in there for a soul and she came up wanting. She didn't take away a thing, 'cause there was nothing left to take. Don't you get it? She gave it up herself, mate." His voice broke. "She gave up."   
  


"You don't know that. She-" Angel seemed oblivious to anything but grandchilde's stricken, furious face.   
  


"He's right." Xander stepped between the two, and the boy was gone again. In his place was the knowing, insightful man Faith found so unsettling. "I saw what The Host saw. He saw Glory bust in, saw her try to take Buffy's soul. He saw that it was gone already, Glory got weakened, Buffy went bad . . . and killed him." He shook his head. "God, he saw himself die."   
  


Faith looked from him to Spike, then turned her eyes to Gunn. The young man seemed lost, as if he didn't understand half of what was happening, but was frightened of it nonetheless. She caught his attention with a wave of her hand. "Take me to Wolfram & Hart."   
  


"I won't let you. Her soul's gone. So what? I'll put it back. This isn't your decision to make."   
  


"Faith, no. Willow will make it right again. Just wait." Willow and Angel spoke at the same time. Faith ignored both of them, her mind made up.   
  


She stepped toward the doors, Xander and Spike at her heels. Gunn hesitated, glancing from them to Angel and back again. Faith didn't wait. She'd find it herself if he wouldn't help. "Occlusus!" She slammed into an invisible wall of force as Willow's voice rang out behind her.   
  


She whirled, instinctively raising her hands in a defensive maneuver. "What the hell are you doing?"   
  


Willow stood calmly. "I'm not letting you go out and kill Buffy. You may think this is your big chance to finally go ahead and kill her, since you didn't manage to do it the last few times you tried. And now you've got all this permission and support and everything. But you don't have my permission. Buffy's my friend, and I'm going to help her. You're not my friend, and I'm damned if I'll help you. You're just an unpleasant reminder of things we'd all much rather forget. You can't waltz in and play the sorrowful hero with us. We know what you really are." Her eyes flashed and Faith understood, for the first time, that Willow was not the girl she had been. She was powerful, and she was pissed off. "Now get the hell out of my way, or I'll TAKE you out of the way."   
  


Faith straightened, and her eyes locked with the witch's. Tara pulled at Willow's arm, murmuring something in her lover's ear, trying to calm her. It did no good. Faith felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and turned to see Xander, tentatively shaking his head, his hand drawing back as if burned. "Don't." His voice was quiet, but definite. She flushed, then nodded slightly at him.   
  


"You're not bloody helping her! You KNOW that Red. You're smarter than this." Spike practically snarled at the witch. Willow took it in stride, ignoring him as if he weren't even there.   
  


Angel sighed. "Faith, I know you think you're right, and maybe you are, in a way. But I know Buffy would want-"   
  


"You. Know. Nothing." Each word hissed from between Spike's clenched teeth. He hovered on the edge of changing, anger and despair warring in him, the fury winning out. "Are you that stupid, or just that selfish? She doesn't want you to fix her. She gave up, gave in, wants the worms to crawl in and out. Get it, wanker? She wants us to finish her off. She'd hate being this, more than anything that could have happened, Buffy would have hated this. She wants to die."   
  


"The way Kat wanted to die, is that it Spike?" Angel's voice was low, dangerous. The misery gone from his expression, it was now filled with rancor and a cunning malevolence. Faith recognized the expression. It was one he'd worn frequently when he'd pretended to be evil for her benefit. "You helped Kat die, and now you're going to help Buffy along, is that it Spike? Too more Slayer notches on your belt. You couldn't beat 'em, so you joined 'em. But then they didn't welcome you with open arms, so you take 'em out. Is that how it works? Too much of a coward to let them live once they reject you?" His voice was soft, but sharp.   
  


Spike leapt forward, face fully shifted. "Don't EVER mention her to me again. And don't dare accuse me of cowardice, when it's you who's too bloody self-involved to see what's right in your face." He pushed violently at Angel's chest, sending the bigger man stumbling backwards, a growl bubbling up from his chest. "You walked away from her Angel. To give her a normal life, wasn't it? Worked out well, didn't it? Maybe if you'd stuck around, put something above yourself for a change, then she could have hung on a little better. Ever think of that? Maybe if you'da been there, all this would just be a bad dream, Angelus. Why don't you add that to your mound of soul-boy guilt and go sit and brood about it, while the rest of us live in the real world, and deal with the consequences of your screw ups."   
  


Angel grabbed Spike by his neck, his face vamped and fury in every line of his big body. Faith stared at the two of them, tired of this show. She stepped between them and, with a powerful shove to each of their chests, sent them both flying in opposite directions. Spike landed against the bar with a thud, Angel fell back across a table, the legs creaking ominously beneath his sudden weight. "This is stupid and pointless. Everyone in this room knows what has to be done, including you, Red. You want to stop me, fine. You want to try to fix her, fine. I'll keep trying to get to her, you'll keep having to stop me. Maybe eventually you'll just do some little witch thing and knock me off altogether. Whatever floats your boat, babe. But you can try to put a soul back there all you want, it won't take. There's nothing there to anchor it to. Buffy's gone, and what's there in her place is so nasty I doubt we can even understand it. So make up your minds. I've thrown down, and I know where I'm going. The rest of you pick your team and play for it." She shook her head. "We should be on the same side. This is so stupid."   
  


"She's right. This is stupid. And we ARE on the same side." Xander stood beside her, and Faith was grateful for the attention he took away from her. "I saw what The Host saw. I saw what's going to happen. And I saw what was left in Buffy." He sighed heavily, the sound seeming to come from somewhere deep within his body. "And it was empty. She's gone, and for the sake of what she was to us, we have to do her this final duty. We have to stop the creature she's become. But more than that, we have to continue where she left off. There's still a Slayer, and there's still evil." He shook his head.   
  


"Glory is on her way to Wolfram & Hart, too. There, they'll tell her where the Key she wants is. It's hidden in the body of Dawn. Buffy's little sister, whom we all know and love in a way." He hesitated, his eyes flicking from face to face before continuing. "Most of us, anyway. She's someone who has crushes, and tantrums, and thinks her big sis and her friends can keep her safe from everything. It was sent to Buffy for protection, wrapped in the body of something she'd love. Buffy's gone. Now we have to protect her. We have to save the world, and stop a God to do it. Or someone completely innocent will be put through hell, and wonder the whole time why no one could save her. And after she dies, so will every other person on this planet, eventually. All because we sat here and argued when everyone here knew exactly what we had to do, they were just too afraid to do it." He looked each of them in the eye. "We don't have time for this crap."   
  


More than a few eyes brimmed with tears, but the mood of the room had changed, silently, they all nodded. Willow raised her hand slightly and whispered. "Apertus." There was a faint shimmer as the forcefield she'd constructed collapsed.   
  


Faith raised her eyes to Xander's and nodded a slight thanks. He smiled briefly, though there was nothing genuine in the expression. He looked toward Angel. "Take us to Wolfram & Hart. They have Giles and Wesley there, too."   
  


Spike turned and marched out the door, making his way to the cars. "I'm going to burn that bloody place to the ground, and all those inside with it."   
  


The rest filed slowly out, steps tentative as they began to march down a path they could barely contemplate. Xander was the last to leave his eyes lingering on the still body of The Host. When he turned to go, he met Cordelia's gaze. She blocked the door, and her eyes on him were more miserable than he'd thought she was capable of. "Cordy?" He suddenly realized that she hadn't said a single word since Buffy had left and taken the familiarity of their world with her.   
  


She blinked at him, and tears rolled down her face. "I was such a bitch. She was just sitting there, teetering this far from breaking and I was SUCH a bitch. I've tried so hard to be a better person, and she comes here and she's just all bad off and unbalanced and I push her further. What is WRONG with me?"   
  


She burst into tears and Xander blanched and pulled her into an awkward embrace. After a moment the awkwardness faded and it became familiar again, holding her. "Cordy, it's not your fault. She was . . . . it wasn't you. It would have happened anyway, and you had some right to say what you did."   
  


She shook in his arms slightly. "It's just . . . it was Buffy. She was always so strong. And sometimes I hated her, and I blamed her for all that stuff with Angel and Angelus. And she wore the most AWFUL shoes . . . but I need her to be there. I need to know she's there. She was Buffy, and now we're supposed to go . . . and she's not there and it's Buffy." She buried her head in his shoulder. "How can you kill someone who's been your idol, and your competition, and your enemy all the same time? And someone who was all of that, and still your friend?" She paused, her voice even lower when she spoke again. "How can I keep being strong without knowing that she's back there, being whiney, and badly dressed, and so much stronger than I could ever be?" 

Xander swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "We're not killing Buffy, Cordy. She's already dead. We're just scattering the ashes." He pulled her chin up and looked at her tear and make-up strewn face. "It wasn't your fault." She nodded and pulled away from him. He took her arm gently and started her toward the door. "We have to go."   
  


She walked beside him, then stopped again, turning to look at where The Host lay. "He was a nice guy, you know. He helped us a lot. He was always really nice to me. Even when I didn't deserve it." She frowned. "He deserves better."   
  


He steered her again toward the door. "We'll come back and bury him when this is over." Both of them knew that they might not live that long, but the thought seemed to comfort her anyway. Together they walked to the waiting cars.   
  
  
  


******************************************************************************   
  


The goddess was furious. Lilah could see it in every stiff, angry movement as she stormed through the building's lobby. She watched on the small security monitor she'd had mounted behind her desk as Glory stormed into the elevator and rode towards her office in furious agitation, clawed hands clenching and unclenching painfully. Her mouth was moving in a ceaseless tirade the silent monitor could, thankfully, not hear. Lilah stood, carefully smoothing her outfit and glanced toward the back of the room. "She's coming."   
  


The three men who stood in the corner nodded. Of the three, only one looked unhappy at that knowledge. The other two were smiling with an air of deep satisfaction that Lilah resented. They had no right to be satisfied, as if they'd planned this. It was her plan, her action, and her triumph. She hated that she had to go through them to get to the Senior Partners. Her frustration was evidenced by the sharp tone of her voice. "Summon them."   
  


One of them men turned, one eyebrow raised in a gesture she found immensely unattractive on his sweating, heavy jowled face. "So glad we have your permission, Ms. Morgan."   
  


Too late, she regretted the quickness of her reply. "Forgive me, Mr. Cronberg. I'm just so eager to have this finished. And please, call me Lilah." Belatedly, she turned on the charm, smiling widely with a slightly flirtatious edge. It seemed to have no effect on the short, balding man, who turned back to face his taller companion. The oldest of the three, however, was giving her a distinctly amused expression. Her smile vanished as she stared at him with rancor. Holland Manners had always done his best to push her into second place, championing Lindsay at every turn. Now she'd found out, when her own plan was so close to fruition, that he'd been plotting against her. Wolfram & Hart had given him the task of dismantling the Council, and he'd done it. But he'd brought back the girl's Watchers, and been plotting with Angel to attempt to thwart her. And worst of all, it was Matt Cronberg and Lee Stanchon themselves who'd brought it to her attention, after being alerted by the Senior Partners themselves. She should have been aware of it herself.   
  


It was immaterial now, luckily. His efforts were too little too late. The Council was, however, destroyed which pleased the partners. So Holland was still allowed a piece of the reward, which annoyed Lilah as well. Holland turned his back to her and knelt between the carefully arranged urns beside Lee and Matt. He bowed his head respectfully as the other two chanted, and carefully lit the ashes within the urns afire.   
  


Lilah watched in fascination as they prepared the rituals, an act she'd never before been privy to. Her observation was abruptly cut off when a strangled scream from outside the office alerted her to Glory's presence. She turned to face the door just as it blew inward, blasting off its hinges and falling heavily to the floor. Glory stood in the doorway, stretching indolently. The limp body of Lilah's secretary lay behind her, eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling as her hands wove senseless patterns in their air, incoherent mutterings spilling from her mouth. Glory finished her stretch, hands lowering to her side. The charred and burned appearance had left them. They were once again smooth and elegant with red tipped nails.   
  


The god smiled lazily. "I needed that." Her smile vanished a moment later. "What I did not need is that little trip into Pain Village that I got when I tried to suck out that girl's soul. I'm immortal. I don't like bouts of pain reminding me of the weak little human body I'm forced to co-inhabit while I'm in this dive of a dimension. Know what that means Lilah?" Glory stepped forward and raised her hand slowly. "My part of the deal is over with. And honey, you'd better get your little friend to tell me where my key is. Or we're going to have a problem." She paused, then smiled again. "Well, not really WE. More like YOU." The raised hand lowered, wrapped around Lilah's wrist and began to squeeze.   
  


Lilah stepped back, wincing as the god retained her grip. "Of course. Prisca will be here momentarily. You did an admirable job, and you have the gratitude of this entire firm, as well as-"   
  


"I don't NEED gratitude. I. Need. My. Key." She spoke slowly, separating her words, as if speaking to a small, child." With each word her grip tightened until Lilah was biting her lip to keep from screaming.   
  


"Prisca will-"   
  


"I am here." The soft, alien voice came from behind Lilah. The grip loosened and her arm fell free. Lilah gave a grateful sigh and rubbed carefully at the already bruising area. She turned to face Prisca. The child looked as she had before, all white and gray and silver with empty eyes. She regarded Glory with that vacant gaze, her hair ripping in a nonexistent wind. "You will destroy this world simply to return to your own?"   
  


"That about sums it up Pixie. So why don't you give me an address?" Glory's flippant answer masked an odd near respect she seemed to feel for the child. Her skin had frozen the first time she'd touched her, and maybe she understood that whatever Glory was, Prisca was something very different, and much, much older.   
  


The child's eyes flicked to Lilah. "You are certain?"   
  


Lilah nodded firmly. "The first of the debts will be erased."   
  


The child sighed, and it breathed around them, chilling the room and sending gooseflesh down Lilah's arms. "Very well." She turned back to Glory. "The Key to your dimension was hidden within a flesh form and sent to the Slayer for protection. It hides within the body of her sister, in a place not far from here. Seek it before the new moon, or it will do you no good. The ritual will open the Gate, and two will become one. Eventually, the world you knew will swallow this one."   
  


"My heart bleeds, really." Glory smirked and turned to Lilah. "What, no map? I really was sort of expecting written directions, or maybe even an all expense paid chauffeur."   
  


Lilah shrugged. "Actually, I had my secretary on alert to look up the address for you, once we found out where it was. But that seems to have fallen through." She cast a significant glance toward her former secretary, who had crawled into the corner beside the doorway and now huddled in a small, drooling ball.   
  


Glory sighed. "Guess I'll have to look it up myself. Or have the minions do it. A girl's work is never done." She was noticeably more cheerful now. She patted Lilah's cheek almost gently. "Thanks Lilah, you've been a doll. You too, munchkin." She directed the last toward Prisca, who gave no answer. The god's eyes flicked to the kneeling men in the corner and narrowed slightly. "Do I want to know what's going on here?"   
  


Lilah hesitated, then smiled. "Don't worry. It's beneath your concern."   
  


Glory seemed to like that. "So many things are. The more time I spend here, the more boring it gets." She sighed. "But thanks to you, that's all over." She smiled. "Thanks. I'm actually almost sorry that you'll die along with the rest of these miserable little bags of flesh when your sleazy little law firm ditches you." She grinned. "Almost, anyways. Toodles."   
  


The god turned and waltzed out of the office. Prisca's eyes turned to Lilah, and then moved past her. "You interfere too much."   
  


"If that were true, then those we serve would have stopped me." A new voice whirled Lilah around. Her eyes widened. The back of her office had disappeared. In its place was a massive, unfathomable space. It was constructed all of iridescent black marble and shadows and seemed to be both indoors and out, all at once. In its center, in front of the dark and newly constructed altar, was a massive, pillared doorway. Two figures stood in the doorway. Tall and human-like, their humanity ended with their shape and size. Their skin was blue, their eyes shadowed. They wore white robes from some ancient time and spoke in tones as alien as Prisca's, though of a different type. It was the female who had spoken. The male stood beside her, silent and observing with cold eyes. She smiled, as cold a smile as Lilah had ever seen. The Senior Partners.   
  


"You destroy what others built. It oversteps your bounds." Prisca's voice jarred Lilah's attention away from the alien woman.   
  


The woman's smile faded. "My bounds are not yours, and we serve different sides."   
  


"I serve no side. I exist. When this is done, I will return to that. I've no desire to meddle in the affairs of the common mortals. You seem to relish it. I merely warn you to stay within your bounds. We all have our place." Prisca's voice seemed faintly amused, if she was capable of such a thing.   
  


The blue skinned woman's gaze hardened and Lilah felt a shiver run down her spin. "I know my place. Better than you know yours."   
  


"My place is, as always, everywhere." Again, that faint twinge of amusement in the child's voice. Lilah glanced between them, not understanding and suddenly fearful.   
  


The woman spared Prisca a final glance, then turned her attention to Lilah. "The god?" It was a question and a demand.   
  


Lilah cleared her throat. "She has been given the key, and went to retrieve it . . ." Her voice trailed off as it occurred to her she didn't know how to address the woman.   
  


The woman's gaze appraised her for a moment. "You are Lilah Morgan?"   
  


Lilah nodded. "Yes, ma'am."   
  


The title she'd given had sounded weak even to her own ears, but the woman paid it no mind. Instead she smiled. "You we have heard a great deal about. It seems our dear Holland made a mistake, favoring Lindsay over you. An unfortunate occurrence. Though Holland does have his uses, along with his downfalls." At that the woman's gaze shifted, and looked toward the half of the room that still resembled an office and the two men Lilah had forgotten were held captive there. The Watchers sat in silence, tied and gagged. One seemed to slip in and out of consciousness while the other looked about alertly, as if still seeking a way to stop this. The woman's gaze turned colder as she looked at them, then turned to Holland, who quailed beneath her gaze. Then the eyes were back on Lilah. "I understand it was you who pieced together much of this plan?"   
  


Lilah nodded, shooting the three men a significant glance. "Yes. I put a lot of hours and planning behind this. I-"   
  


"And what is to happen now, Lilah?" It was the male who cut her off, speaking for the first time. His tone was arrogant and impatient.   
  


Lilah hesitated, her eyes flicking back to the woman. Woman didn't seem to be a fitting term for her, but Lilah didn't bother coming up with one more appropriate. She nodded slightly and Lilah licked her lips, speaking carefully. "The Slayer must be contacted, I already have plans for that. She is now our natural ally, and we can recruit her to help turn the rest, one way or another. Then we can take those we need with us when we slide dimensions." It was a risky thing, claiming a place for herself before it was offered. She knew it, but she was no coward, and she said it anyway.   
  


The man opened his mouth, but the other laid a hand on his arm and laughed. "Such grand plans and no idea whatsoever of the truth behind things. Still, you've been useful. More so than many others." The woman's eyes flicked toward Holland, who had been wearing a smirk at her worlds. It faded quickly under her eye. "No Lilah, you'll not be left behind. Should you survive that long, you will have a place with us and our favored. You've earned it. As have you, Holland, despite your blunders." Her eyes traveled back to Lilah and her smile faded. "Your plans have worked well till now. But they no longer apply. The Slayer need not be contacted, she will be here momentarily. And you, for all your cleverness, know nothing."   
  


Lilah blinked in confusion. "What? She's coming here? Why-" Her question was cut off and forgotten as a new figure stepped through the broken doorway and into the office that wasn't an office just now. Lilah's eyes widened as the fell on the blonde hair and green eyes she'd seen so often in pictures. Seeing her in person was different. She was smaller than Lilah had expected. And the warmth she'd seen in the photos, and Wolfram & Hart had many, many pictures of this girl, was gone. She was cold. But not emotionless. Anger was on her surface, resentment, and violence. Lilah stepped back, but the Slayer paid her no attention. It was the blue woman who claimed her attention. The woman smiled down at the Slayer in welcome. "Welcome Buffy. So glad you found your way here."   
  
  
  


************************************************************************   
  


They stared up at the building, not speaking. Faith's hand clutched inelegantly at the crossbow she held, the other hand reaching into her jacket to check for the fifth time in less than a minute that the stakes she'd brought were still secure there. The others stood beside, behind, around her. She could sense them, could sense the power inside the building too. Her nerves tingled with awareness that seemed more vibrant than before. Idly, she wondered if her own Slayer powers had increased because Buffy had been lost, or if she was just so on edge she was imagining things. A soft voice at her side spoke. "Buffy's in there."   
  


She glanced at Xander, then back at the building. Something itched along her skin and her eyes slid past it to the sidewalk next to, then beyond it. Innumerable blonde heads walked along it and Faith's gaze shifted back to the building. When she answered him, it was with certainty. "Glory's not."   
  


Cordelia spoke from her place beside Xander. "How do you know?"   
  


Faith shrugged. "Got me. I just know." Her eyes moved to the sidewalk again. "We should go after her. She's going to Dawn."   
  


Xander looked at her. "But Buffy?"   
  


Faith shrugged, the careless motion masking the tension and upset. "She's only one vampire. She's a Slayer, yeah. But she's still just one. Glory's going to end the world. Which one do you think should be priority number one?"   
  


Xander shook his head. "We have to take care of this first. Buffy . . . we have to stop her before she does something."   
  


Faith turned to him, feeling oddly betrayed by him, as he'd been her ally back at Caritas. "I think she'd want us to save the world first, she was a practical kind of gal." It felt odd to use the past tense.   
  


He shook his head, stubborn and resolute. "We have to stop her before she does something Buffy would have hated."   
  


Faith glanced around and saw that she was the minority. They'd gone from being united against killing Buffy to united in their urgency to do her in. Only Gunn, the one who'd known her the least, seemed on her side. Faith shrugged again, and her tone was bitter when she answered. "You mean something like kill The Host in cold blood? Or attack her friends?"   
  


Xander's face tightened and Spike's fingers clenched. Angel's voice was a blessing, cutting through the tension and bringing their attention back to the matter at hand. Buffy was first. So be it. "They'll know we're there. They can sense vampires."   
  


Faith considered. She might be able to convince Angel to stay behind for a few minutes while they went for the surprise angle, but she doubted she could do the same with Spike. "They'll know Buffy's here, too. So maybe that will be priority one and we'll sneak in anyway." It was a long shot, but better than nothing. "Let's chance it." They gathered weapons and moved into the building. Faith glanced behind her as she led the way and shook her head faintly. Humpty Dumpty had toppled from her wall. And the king's men weren't riding in to put her back together, she was too far gone to try.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


Buffy spared only a glance for the humans in the room, than it was the blue skinned Oracle who held her attention. "Wasn't hard to find. I followed the Hell God. She left, by the way. Wonder what she was doing here? See, I heard a rumor that it was you all who sent her after me. Well, not you, 'cause I really thought you were batting for the home team." Buffy directed the last toward the Oracles, then gestured expansively toward the human occupants of the room. "And even though I've recently gone through some changes, I still don't much like being backed into a corner. Now, granted, there's not much I can do about that with the blonde, her being a god and all, but I thought maybe I could take it up with her bosses. So I followed her here. But I didn't need to, did I? All I had to do was follow the homing beacon in my head. It's unsettling, this feeling that I've been set up. I really don't like it at all. So here's what's going to happen. I'm going to stop talking, and you're going to start. 'Cause from what I've heard, someone killed you once before, and I'm betting I could do it again."   
  


Buffy Summers moved forward and Lilah was astounded by her speed, her grace, and the predatory air about her. She'd seen Faith move. This was different. Faith was a woman with a gift, Buffy wasn't a woman at all. The Slayer's small hands closed around the neck of the man nearest her. Lee Cronberg turned a sickly shade of white as the hands dug into his throat. "Now tell me Big Blue. What the hell is all this? What side are you playing for? And why am I the chosen chess piece?"   
  


The woman smiled. "I'm not who you think. We've never met Buffy. The one you are thinking of is the other side of the coin. I serve the same side as you do, now."   
  


Buffy laughed and her fingers tightened. Lee's white face began to redden, gurgling sounds escaping his throat. "See, that's the funny thing. I had a side before. Now I'm over it. But just because I threw in the towel on that side doesn't mean I'm in a hurry to try out for another team. I'm thinking of going solo, a free agent." She let go of Lee as his face shifted from deep red to purple. She threw him away with a careless toss. He crashed heavily into the marble pillar, earning a scowl from Matt, who seemed more concerned with the Oracle's pillars than with Lee's health. "Shall I pick off your little helpers here one by one? 'Cause frankly, I could use a snack."   
  


The male scowled at her. "You dare show us such disrespect?" Beside him, his sister sighed heavily and shot him a look of disapproval.   
  


Buffy laughed. "You want respect from me? I'm sorry, must not have gotten that memo." 

The female sighed again and laid a calming hand on her brother's arm. "We expect nothing Buffy, instead we make an offer."   
  


Buffy glanced between them, derision in her expression. Lilah saw disgust written plainly on the vampire's face and in her bearing. She was furious at being used, even if it had led to her current soul less status. "And what makes you think I'd be interested in anything you offer me? I don't need anything from you. I'm young, pretty, strong, and I'm going to live forever. I've got lots of options already. Breaking your neck is one of them. And gotta tell you, it's looking like an awfully appealing choice just now."   
  


The female smiled, and it was a far colder expression than even Buffy was capable of. "Because in a very short time, all of those attributes will do you no good, and you'll have no options at all. I'm handing you a world on a platter Buffy, a chance to craft your own world if you so choose. All I ask in return is a single service, one you'll enjoy."   
  


Buffy paused, a spark of interest in her eyes. "And what's that?"   
  


The blue skinned woman's smile widened slightly and she leaned forward, her hands fluttering dramatically. "Utter destruction."   
  


Buffy snorted and laughed slightly. "You went to all this trouble so I could massacre a few people for you? I can do that on my own, if I wanted to. And, just so you know, there were a whole lot of vamps hanging around already who would have been more than happy to go on some kind of little evil-funded killed spree. You didn't have to recruit me just for that." She smiled. "Not that I'm not grateful, in a twisted, really ungrateful sort of way."   
  


"I want nothing so inelegant as a massacre. I want something only you can provide, Buffy. It is necessary. YOU are necessary."   
  


Buffy sighed and leaned carelessly against a pillar, as if bored by the whole proceedings. "And what is it you want me to do?"   
  


The woman smiled again. "I want you to wage a war."   
  


The Slayer's blonde head tilted. "Explain."   
  


The woman smiled, and nodded toward Prisca, who stood forgotten at Lilah's back. Lilah spun and saw the childlike figure nod in grudging acquiescence. Prisca raised one hand and the room seemed to bend and twist in odd ways. Lilah felt faintly sick to her stomach as the space around her distorted without actually moving. In a moment it had past and a gray swirling circle opened in the formerly empty center of the room. It moved within oddly within its space, like a blank gray sea disturbed by a skipping stone. As Lilah stared into it, it gave her an odd feeling of nothingness. She thought it might be some kind of portal, but she couldn't be certain. She tore her eyes away from the thing and turned again to the Oracles and the Slayer.   
  


The blue woman smiled again, paying Lilah no attention. Buffy's eyes widened and she seemed to back away slightly from the portal. "What is that?" The Slayer moved slightly to look more closely. Suddenly she sucked in a deep, unnecessary breath, her eyes widening slightly as they moved past the hovering portal-like oddity to something beyond it. "So, you do have them." For an instant, something unrecognizable flickered across her face, it may have been anything from regret, to sadness, to anger, Lilah couldn't tell. In a moment it was gone, her face expressionless. "What are they doing here?"   
  


"Some in this . . . firm have been known to overstep their boundaries. They occasionally act of their own volition rather more than we approve of. Such was the case with your former Watchers. However, since they are here, consider them a gift, do with them what you will." The female's eyes flicked toward Holland for a moment, then fixed back on Buffy.   
  


The Slayer's eyes lingered on the pair for a moment, and Lilah followed her gaze. Both men were staring back at the Slayer, but it was the oldest one who caught her attention. He was bruised, battered, and bleeding. In all the pictures she'd seen of him, he's worn glasses, but there were none on his face now, and his right eye was so swollen it was nearly shut. The other eye squinted as it stared at Buffy. The man's expression however, was what drew and held Lilah's attention. It was a mix of horror, pleading, and utter misery. She'd seen him when they'd first been escorted in, their presence renewing her annoyance with Holland. He'd been beaten, confused, and in pain. But he hadn't been afraid, and he hadn't looked this hopeless. It was odd to her that one man's expression could affect her at all. For an instant, she regretted having caused it, in her own way. The whim faded, and her attention turned back to the Slayer.   
  


Buffy stared at her Watcher, and her expression hardened. She turned slowly and for a moment she looked at Lilah. The lawyer shifted uncomfortably as the Slayer's gaze bored into her, as if memorizing her face. Then the hard green eyes moved on, and she looked toward the Oracles again. "When Angel had his charming personality shift, he went and killed everything I loved, and everything he cared about. You know that, right? It was sorta his trademark, you know?"   
  


The Oracle frowned, but nodded. The male turned and paced angrily for a moment before turning back to Buffy. "It is in his nature to do so, as it is in yours now."   
  


"Wrong." Buffy's voice was flat. "I'm not Angel, and I'm not Angelus. I don't obsess. I'm not hungry, and I don't give a damn. They're no concern of mine." She turned to face them again, and smiled faintly. "Let them go."   
  


She crossed the room in smooth, purposeful strides and undid their bindings as Lee and Matt hissed frantically at Holland. The Oracle waved a languid hand at them. "Silence."   
  


Buffy freed them easily, her strong hands tearing the ropes and tape. Their voices rose, hoarse and strained and she stopped them with a rough hand to their mouths. "I said I'd let you go. Didn't say I'd have a heart to heart. Call it a farewell gift. We were good together, you and I." She directed that toward Giles with a cold grin, then turned to Wesley. "You, I never gave a damn about. You were weak, whiney, and pathetic. Hardly a worthy successor to Ripper here, don't you agree? But someone seems to value you, and there's lots of meat to be had. See? I'm all heart for a monster, aren't I? Go, run free and happy and alive and all." She leaned forward and grasped Giles head with her hands. The man winced at her grip and tried to speak again. She stopped him by forcing her lips to his in a cold, emotionless kiss. "A goodbye kiss, daddy dearest." She laughed, a hollow sound. "Try to find me, try to kill me . . and you won't live to tell the tale. I may be a nice gal for a vampire, but it's strictly a one shot deal. Get gone."   
  


She turned and strode quickly away, leaving them standing, blinking stupidly at her back. She stopped in front of the Oracle. "Alright, Spill. You have five minutes, convince me."   
  


The Oracle smiled and Lilah's eyes widened as she heard for the first time the Senior Partners' true Mission Statement. Lee and Matt, the Partners most trusted employees moved in unison to the back of the room and hurriedly began pushing the Watchers out of the office doors. Lilah allowed them a glance, pulling her attention away from the Slayer and the Oracle for a moment. Lee had his phone out and was whispering into it, his beady eyes darting around. Lilah knew with sudden certainty that, despite the Slayer's wishes, those two men wouldn't make it out of this building alive. For a moment, she felt an urge to help them, but she pushed it away and turned again to face the Oracle, forgetting the Watchers quickly as she again became immersed.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


It was odd, the things you thought in such moments. As she looked over the heads of a small swarm of security officers and met familiar brown eyes, all Faith could think of was that he looked just as she remembered him- tortured. The uniform clad men were ushering him and Giles. God, Giles looked horrible. Not even the bruises, just the look of him. He looked like a broken man. They were moving them somewhere, with guns. Faith didn't think, she just acted. She waded into the security men, acutely aware of those at her back, wading in beside her. They weren't prepared for them, and their guns proved useless under the speed of the attack. In moments, they were strewn uselessly about the floor.   
  


Xander rushed forward, his arms reaching to support Giles who had begun to sway weakly. Faith met Wesley's eyes again. He looked back, his gaze bleak. "Buffy-"   
  


"Where is she?" Angel's voice at her back, terse and fearful.   
  


"Up there. She- I'll take you." Wesley understood why they were here. It was in his movements, his voice. Regret was there, but it hid beneath a businesslike veneer. Then realization came into those eyes, and they shifted back to Faith, who met them. "Did you do this?" Fury, anger, and accusation blazed into the words.   
  


"No." One word. It was enough because it was the truth.   
  


He hesitated, his eyes seeking out Angel again, then moving to Cordelia and Gunn. They each nodded in turn, Cordelia finally speaking. "Take us to Buffy, Wesley."   
  


Wesley nodded and moved down the hall, then stopped again, eyes on Faith. "If I'd had my way, you would have been in chains years ago, and never have gotten out. There is no justice if your allowed to walk the streets again so soon."   
  


She shrugged, hid a flash of pain and answered bitterly. "If you'd had your way back then, the whole world would be a memory now. Think that would have been suitably just?" He winced, looked away and moved off. She followed, regretting her words, but saying nothing.   
  


They moved after him. Xander and Giles in the back with Tara beneath Giles other arm. She heard the Watcher's voice dimly. "She let us go. She can't be . . . it's not . . . " Xander's voice then, low, trying to explain. Faith tuned them out, her mind trying to push away the thought of the Buffy she'd seen in Caritas letting the two former Watchers go. Pushing away doubts that nagged and wondered if this was the right thing, she moved on.   
  


The elevators were too slow. It took decades to reach the floor they needed. When finally the doors opened again, Faith expected opposition. She expected an army at worst, or Buffy . . . which wasn't a much better option. She found nothing. The hallway Wesley led her down was empty, devoid of life. As he walked, she felt the pull of something. She moved forward, taking the lead. She didn't need to be led, she knew where she was going now, with the certainty of a Slayer's instincts. When finally she stepped through the ruined doorway, sparing a glance for the shaking, sobbing woman huddled in a ball just outside, she felt oddly disappointed at the anti-climax of their welcome. No one leapt out to attack, no unexpected deadly foe. Instead, she stepped into a room that was half office, half . . . something else. In its center, just before the oddly uniform line where a stylish office became an oddly undefinable space full of black marble and harsh pillars, was a hovering oval of swirling, simmering gray. Beneath an arching marble doorway stood two blue-skinned figures in white robes. There was something aristocratic and knowing in their manner, and their eyes never even strayed to the door, though the human occupants of the room did.   
  


They stared with wide eyes. Three men and a woman Faith recognized very well. Lilah Morgan, her lawyer - in a matter of speaking anyway. She'd seen to it that Faith was freed from prison, despite Faith's protests. The men moved forward, pulling out cell phones and demanding security in low voices. Lilah stared with the suddenly wary gaze of a tiger who's only just realized that the poachers have her backed into a corner, and are staring at her down the barrel of their rifle. 

Faith appraised each of them with the quick, accomplished eye of a warrior, dismissing them as a physical threat. Her eyes turned to the blue pair, and the small blonde who stood in front of them. Now their gazes finally turned to her, smiling and benevolent in a cold way. The man stepped forward, moved off of their raised marble dais to stand before a the odd sphere of gray mist. Beside the circle stood another figure, one Faith had somehow missed on her appraisal, one she recognized. The child's gray eyes met hers as the blue man came to stand beside her. There was urgency in that gaze, and Faith moved.   
  


Buffy had stepped onto the dais, and the blue woman leaned to whisper something in her ear. Buffy laughed, then spun and leapt off. She came face to face with Faith and her smile faded. "Didn't we do this already? Don't know when to quit, do you Faith? But then, you never did. Subtlety wasn't exactly your strong suit."   
  


Faith shrugged. "Don't remember it being one of your good qualities either."   
  


She laughed, shaking her blonde head in a gesture that was distinctly her own. The laugh was still not though. It was still the laughter of something alien to what Buffy had been, and Faith hung onto that thought tenaciously. "True. So, are we going to do this?"   
  


Faith didn't answer, she lunged, her hand gripping a stake. Buffy let her close, then dodged with graceful speed and leveled her fists on Faith's back. The dark haired Slayer stumbled, her breath escaping with a whoosh. Buffy swept her feet out from beneath her and smiled faintly. "Guess not. Hate to fight and run, but places to go, things to do and all."   
  


She turned and moved toward the portal, slipping through the hands of the others like some sleek fish. Giles voice rang out, loud despite his weakness, halting her on the edge of the swirling gray. "They're going to end the world Buffy. All we've fought for, all we've battled will be for nothing."   
  


Buffy turned, and her expression was mixed. Finally she shrugged, smiled. "So why don't you meddling kids stop it? I've got bigger plans these days, more pressing concerns." A hesitation, a shift in her eyes. "I couldn't have stopped it anyway. At least now it won't matter."   
  


The relentless march of time seemed to stop as Buffy leapt through the gray mist, the blue-skinned man beside her. A voice Faith thought might be her own whispered "A portal," in her ear. She wasn't certain how she knew that the gray circle was a portal, but suddenly she did. They moved in a rush, those who fought with her, she heard their voices dimly as thoughts beat a tatoo in her brain. Spike, and Angel moved through, Willow and Xander behind them. Too late to stop them all, she reached out. Her hand snagged only Xander's arm. She threw him back, away from the portal, only dimly hearing his cry of protest. Tara was faster than Faith. She jumped into Willow's path, stopping her though Faith had been too slow to do so. The red haired witch didn't see her in time to halt. Willow ran into her lover with an audible thud, then fell back as Tara tumbled forward and disappeared through the portal.   
  


Wesley moved to catch her, his hand closing on Tara's wrist at the last possible second. But the portal refused to relinquish her. Instead it seemed to reach out and pull him in after her. He was dragged through, his voice a hoarse croak of protest. Beside him, Angel and Spike rushed through of their own volition, Angel's belated movement to stop and help Wesley coming too late as he too was pulled through with the Watcher and the blonde vampire. Giles stumbled forward toward the portal, which had begun rapidly shrinking as soon as Angel faded from their view. Giles' expression was pure agony as he hobbled forward, desperate to follow them through before it disappeared altogether. Faith stopped him with hand to his chest. Suddenly time began to move again for her. He snarled at her, struggling uselessly against the strength of her arm.. "I have to go! I'm her Watcher."   
  


"She doesn't need a Watcher anymore." As she spoke, the incessant thoughts in her brain halted, and Faith's mind cleared, her purpose coming through now with a clarity she couldn't remember ever feeling before. "But I will."   
  


The portal shrank to a fraction of its size and the child, gray eyes glinting with something that might have been satisfaction, stepped into its center. The blue woman's voice came now, chilling in its fury. "You dare interfere? You have no right!"   
  


The child spoke, her voice cold. "You know nothing of what is within my right. I move as I chose, and do what is within my boundaries. Your purposes are not my sole concern."   
  


The blue woman moved toward the opaque doorway of her raised dais. "It will make no difference. The path is set, and it will unfold as I sought." Her narrowed eyes turned contemptuous. "You claim to not meddle with mortal affairs. What then is this?"   
  


"That remains to be seen. There are, always, options. You above all others should know that. You wrong your own cause." She smiled faintly. "And I do not meddle. I counter. In the end, we all serve something. You serve disorder, a state without boundaries. I exist as a boundary. It should be clear enough." The girl's voice dimmed and her head turned for a moment, her eyes locked with Faith's, and she spoke a final time. "The outcome in two worlds is not yet known. Do not give up." The blue woman seemed to take the words to heart, smiling slightly. But it was Faith to whom the child spoke. After a long moment, the portal swirled closed and the child disappeared, leaving no trace of those who had stepped into it.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	11. Customizing

Author's Note: Happy New Year!! It has been a while, hasn't it? But here, at last, are not one but TWO shiny new chapters in this long running epic. I can't say for sure, but I believe it should be between seven or eight more chapters to finish it up. I continue to get such nice emails about this story and its predecessor, and want to thank everyone who keeps hanging in there as the story develops. I'm having a blast writing it, and have no intention of leaving it unfinished. Thanks, as always, to my Beta Readers, and special thanks to my mom, who helped immensely by reading through a few dozen different chapter ten outlines and telling me which ones sucked. There will be an additional author's note at the end of chapter eleven. I'm putting it at the end so you can easily avoid it if you like, as it involves me being highly silly and asking my readers to do something. Feel free to skip it if you like. Hope you enjoy the chapters! As always, please review or email either way! Oh, and check out my column, Word of Mouth on fanfiction.net if you feel like it!!   
  
Part Ten: 

Customizing   
  
"In the beginning the Universe was created. This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move." -- Douglas Adams   
  


He'd expected it to feel familiar. He'd been through portals before, knew how they sucked your equilibrium and spun you into a desperate, quivering fury of displaced balance and heaving nausea. He'd anticipated that, waited for the spinning and the whirling and the heat of being drawn into something terrible. He'd known what it would be like, and he'd gone through anyway - for her. But it didn't feel right, and he couldn't seem to remember exactly why he'd followed her through anymore.   
  


This was different. He wasn't spinning, he was falling. It was gentle and slow, sliding through something heavier than air and lighter than water. He felt like Alice, floating into a new world. "Follow the white rabbit." The line had the wrong connotations for him now. He'd seen The Matrix way too many times. There was no energy moving around and through him flashing bright lights in his eyes and heating his skin until it burned from within. Instead there was nothingness. A haze of gray that moved in odd ways around him, obscuring everything but wrapping him in an embrace that was cold, but faintly comforting.   
  


He drifted through the gray and through the contours of his own mind. His body felt detached, and memories he'd forgotten began to flicker through his brain. Many of them were painful, horrifying, or frightening- yet he felt nothing. He drifted past memories so vivid it was as if he was observing them from somewhere within this gray mist. He saw them in reverse. Saw his own entry into the portal with its last second attempt to halt and help Wesley. Then Buffy's brief fight with Faith and subsequent leap into the gray. The memories began to spin faster now, flashing so quickly through his mind that they disappeared before he could comprehend them. He saw Katerina exploding into dust, Spike's face as he watched. Buffy's green eyes, then her gaze briefly in silver, as it had been for a time. Then further back to green again as her eyes met his.   
  


Faster still they spun. He saw his life in LA, Wesley, Cordelia, Doyle . . . he saw his flight from Sunnydale and the Ascension. Faster still as memories of a Hell he'd struggled to forget came at him. Still he felt nothing. Then before Hell in a dizzying array, like lighting, his brain moved through memories of his life with Buffy, his existence with a soul. And then he saw himself as Angelus again, living in a wash of blood and giddy extravagance. Those times moved over him until he saw himself clawing his way from a fresh grave to greet a waiting Darla. Still further, through his adolescence, a quiet night with his sister perched happily on his knee, his father gone on business. His childhood, with his mother's nervous voice begging him to clean up before his father returned.   
  


He watched it all, his life in reverse. Then it was gone, and only his vague memories remained. The gray wrapped around him, more firmly this time. Nothing came through his mind but he felt the motion of his own body, still floating through something incomprehensible and strangely dense. Suddenly gravity regained its hold on him and he felt himself, newly heavy and awkward, hit something hard, damp, and pungent. Others tumbled beside him, and he became aware again of what was happening.   
  


Instantly a white hot fire raced through him. He let out a cry of pain and heard it echoed by a familiar voice behind him. His eyes still blurred, his mind slow with pain, he heard the sizzle of his own flesh and the heat of the fire. He stumbled, feeling hands pushing him toward something, beneath a canopy of shade. And then the pain faded and his mind cleared. He slapped out the flames on his hands and face, feeling the rough patches of burned skin as he did so. Then he blinked in confusion.   
  


He looked around and saw where he was. He sat beneath a dense canopy of trees, the bright glare of the sun hitting the fields just beyond him. He shrank further back toward the deeper shade of the trees, cowering from the sun. The field before him was vast and shielded on three sides by trees. He saw figures moving about, some on foot some on horseback. He inhaled deeply, scenting mostly humans with a twinge of distant vampire. "Where am I?"   
  


A voice spoke from beside him. "N-not in LA anymore seems a pretty good guess." He turned to see the speaker. Tara leaned against a tree trunk, the bruises and cuts on her face and arms gone. She still wore Cordelia's clothes, though she'd managed to find ones more fitting than Willow. Hers were a simple sweat suit, most likely stashed at the hotel to wear when Cordy went directly to the gym from work. Her eyes were trained on the fields in front of them without wavering, fear and confusion in her expression. "I don't th-think they have this many trees in the whole city."   
  


Her presence reminded him of the others and suddenly he spun around, his eyes searching. They flashed past Spike, who sported burns similar to his own and sat slumped beside a tree, and Wesley, who seemed -like Tara- to be fully healed of the wounds he'd acquired courtesy of Wolfram & Hart. He paid them no attention, his eyes scanning the trees and fields in turn, searching for a sign of her.   
  


"She's not here." Wesley's voice still sounded tired, but it lacked the weakness Angel had heard in it before.   
  


Spike sighed, leaning back against the tree. "Thanks for the newsflash, Watcher. If I hadn't figured that out on my own ten minutes ago, I'd be grateful."   
  


Tara finally moved her gaze from the field and turned to the rest of them. "Where are we?"   
  


Angel and Spike shook their heads. Wesley hesitated, reaching up to adjust the glasses that weren't on his face. "I believe that may be the wrong question. I think the correct one might be, 'WHEN are we?'."   
  


Tara looked at him, comprehension dawning. "Wh-when we went through I remembered everything . . . . stuff I thought I'd forgotten a long time ago. But it was like watching it through a mo-movie screen or something. You think we . . . moved through time?"   
  


Wesley nodded. "It seems likely. It hardly acted like an inter-dimensional portal, from what I've seen and read of them."   
  


"But why? And where is Buffy and the blue git she went through the portal with then? Why wouldn't they be here?" Spike stood, wincing as he examined his blackened hands.   
  


"I haven't the faintest idea." Despite his obvious trepidation and exhaustion, Wesley had that familiar look of excitement he got whenever he discovered something new. Angel had learned to hate that look. He preferred the familiar to conquering new territories.   
  


"Well then, that's terribly helpful. Good thing you stumbled through with us. Who's all for hopping in the DeLorean, finding Buffy, and heading home?" Spike shot Wesley an annoyed look as he drawled out his reply.   
  


Wesley returned the look with full venom. "If you have any suggestions Spike, feel free to speak up. As far as I know, we've moved backwards through time and been deposited somewhere different than Buffy. That's as far as I've gotten. Anything you'd like to add?"   
  


"Other than 'you're a stupid prat,' not really." Spike's response earned him a glare from everyone present. He ignored them all.   
  


"You are both right and wrong." The new voice spun Wesley awkwardly around. Spike jumped to his feet, growling slightly. Angel and Tara, who'd been facing the spot where the newcomer had emerged, just stared at her in surprise.   
  


They were silent for a moment, facing the stranger. The child simply stood and waited. She looked out of place in tree-lined shade. The gray hair of an old woman streamed down her back, fading in color at the ends until it was impossible to distinguish from the glaring white of her robes. Her eyes were huge and pupil-less, dominating her tiny pale face. The gray orbs were utterly alien and held the promise of ages within them. Her voice when she'd spoken had been as gray as her eyes, without tone or emotion. Finally Spike stepped closer to her, his surprise shifting to derision. "The Slayer talked about you. You're the one who warned her, before we got Red and the witch out." 

The gray head nodded. "I am. You may call me Prisca."   
  


Spike snorted. "What I'll call you is a sodding corpse unless you tell us what in the bloody hell is going on. I saw you, standing beside that portal we all tripped through. You put it there, didn't you? This is all your fault."   
  


The pale gray eyes blinked, the white head tilted. "You pretend a brutal stupidity that does not, I think, suit you, Vampire."   
  


Spike growled faintly, but subsided at Wesley's quelling gesture. His acquiescence surprised the former Watcher, but he took advantage of it. "You are Prisca, called the Guardian?"   
  


"It is a name. One of many. But yes, I am."   
  


Wesley hesitated, glancing around him for a moment. "It was you who brought us here then? Where are we?"   
  


"You are, as you suspected, in a time far prior to the one you've lived in. Long before any of your births, even those of you who've lived beyond the range of a normal life."   
  


"Where is Buffy?" Angel spoke before Wesley could raise more questions.   
  


Prisca surveyed him for a long moment with her cold gaze. "She is here as well. I saw to it that she arrived in a place distant from here, as she was entering into the middle of what would be, for you, a very hostile place."   
  


"Why did you send her here?"   
  


Prisca sighed as she answered Angel, and the sound sent chills through their skin, even the still heated hides of the two vampires. "Because a debt was owed."   
  


Spike sighed and grumbled at the child's vague answers. He slumped to the ground and sat cross-legged, looking like a sullen boy. Prisca's eyes flicked to him for a moment, he looked up to meet her gaze and went still. He stared at her as if hypnotized, then straightened his insolent posture. "Alright. Tell us the story then."   
  


The child's expression shifted slightly into something that might have been a smile. "Imagine for just a moment that the urgency of your lives - the life and death struggles that are your existence, the endless toil as you strive to do what is right - imagine for a moment that all of that is meaningless. Imagine that your world - and you - are of no significance to anyone outside of it. Imagine, that you are less than nothing to those you call 'The Powers That Be'. Imagine your own insignificance. And then imagine that the fate of all worlds still rests upon your shoulders."   
  


Tara blinked. "D-did that just make no sense, or was it just me?"   
  


Wesley shook his head. "No. I'm lost as well. Depressed, but lost."   
  


Prisca raised a hand, the pale fingers caught a glint of stray sunlight that had pushed its way through the trees. The light shone through it, turning the slender hand almost translucent. "It will be difficult for you to understand, if not impossible. You were never meant to be told, but changing times call for new methods. You have heard of alternate dimensions?" She waited for their nods, though she seemed to take it as fact that they would be aware. "The number of . . dimensions, as you know them are infinite. New dimensions are created and collapse every second. A single change, one insignificant disparity, and a new world is created to reflect it. Often, these are just shades of the worlds they emerge from." She gestured toward them slightly. "The world from which you come is one of only a few. It is known as a core world. It was created not by a chance deviation from an existing dimension, but existed before them. It is a construct of the Powers themselves. It is a base from which other worlds sprang. There are untold dimensions similar enough to yours that you could live out your life in them and never notice the difference. It may be as insignificant as one man living or dying, or as catastrophic as an Apocalypse. Most of these collapse through their own instability. But some continue, emerge as realities of their own."   
  


She hesitated, then spoke again. "Before time began, your world was chosen, singled out along with a handful of others. These would be the earmarks for the rest, and they would determine the fall of the Balance. The victories and failures of either side would bear no significance outside of their world for those who exist outside of these chosen dimensions. On these worlds, the Balance would be maintained and fought for. In the beginning, when it was first established, the side of Order was in ascendency. The Balance is equal in theory, but not in practice. One side must always have a foothold over the other. Because of this slight gain, the Slayers were established. They became a permanent warrior for the side of Order, and would remain theirs as long as The Balance was maintained." She hesitated again, then continued. "It is their presence and calling that insures and gives evidence to the Balance, not their triumphs. As long as they are called to the side of Order, than Order maintains its position over Chaos."   
  


Angel opened his mouth to speak, but Prisca halted him with a single glance before he could begin. "Order was gifted with the Slayers, but it would disturb the Balance too harshly to give such a boon without gifting the opposite with something similar. So the side of Chaos was given an Oracle, to aid their cause. But unlike the Slayers, this Oracle had no physical effect on their world or place within it. It could guide only when summoned. The Balance can only be weighed once every thousand years. But there are other ways, and other judges less impartial. It was one of these that next affected the Balance. A war was fought, and upon the outcome of this war ramifications were laid. Should one side win, Order would gain an Oracle, as Chaos already had. Should the other triumph, the Slayers would be called for the side of Chaos."   
  


"Order's army was victorious, and the Slayers remained theirs. They were given an Oracle to serve them. But again, such a thing cannot be given without something to balance the other side. The Oracle of Chaos was given the ability to physically affect the servants of its side. It was a gift that could be used only rarely, and could be withstood if the subject so chose. It was their minds the Oracle touched, not their bodies and had they wished to, they could have ignored what was planted within their mind. But the Oracle chooses its subjects well, and its suggestions are rarely overthrown by the mortals it selected to carry out their tasks."   
  


She paused and moved to continue, but Spike interrupted, and was not as easily deterred as Angel had been. "Are you telling me that the fate of the whole world rested on a BET between the sodding gods?"   
  


Prisca looked to him, and again came the expression that might have been a hint of a smile. "If that is how you understand it, then yes. A wager. And it was not the fate of one world, but all of them." He looked as if he had more to say, but stopped at the shift of her eyes away from him. "Other, smaller . . . wagers have been placed since." Her eyes flicked toward Spike again as she paused over the word wagers. "Most of those have been in favor of Chaos. The Oracle of Chaos proved well able to use the power it had been granted, and moved too well within the space it had been allowed to function within. To counter for the boundaries it pushed on its own limitations, a second Oracle was assigned to each side. The second was created to be equal to the first, but nothing goes as planned. The second lacked experience, and on both sides, the older leeched power away from the second, increasing their own sphere of influence. They took on more human personas, becoming male and female. It was the females who existed first, the males who were weaker and more cautious. And so continued the battle for dominance unchecked. The small advantage Chaos had gained became ever greater, their Oracles wielding ever more influence, leading to the eventual destruction of the Oracles for Order. Their last attempt was their most significant since that war. It was the weighing of the scales. They failed, as you know. Order was granted a boon, and the Oracles for your side regained their place on your world. The Oracles were kept at a distance while they were separated from this world, and were not aware of the full plans of their opposites. They informed their champions, and kept the Scales in balance, regaining the superiority of Order in the process."   
  


"But that was part of the other side's plan, right?" Tara was intent on Prisca's words. She seemed to grasp them well, better than either of the vampires. She'd moved closer and sank to the ground to sit beside Angel, who remained standing. "They w-wanted the Scales to be balanced?"   
  


Prisca nodded. "All of those who served them at that time were programmed to fail. Lindsey MacDonald was chosen because he would fall short, Holland Manners was made to favor him over others because they wanted the weakness, the susceptibility to Order that he possessed. He did not know, of course. All of those who serve Wolfram & Hart or have served them in the past are ignorant of the true plans behind the Oracles' moves. The true purpose of the Scales, and of the false spell they planted with the Council, was to force Katerina to Change Buffy, and to then sacrifice herself by merging with Buffy. Just as the Oracles for Order knew that Buffy and Katerina were formed of the same basic elements, so did those for Chaos. They gambled on Katerina merging with Buffy, thus granting her memories to the current Slayer."   
  


"The vampire side of Buffy, and Katerina, left them both open to suggestions from the Oracles of Chaos. It was subtle, but they helped contribute to Buffy's downfall. The darkness that emerged from her was unavoidable. Had she not surrendered to it herself, then Glorificus would have robbed her of her soul. Buffy then went to the Oracles, who had seen to it that she would. They summoned me, and used me to send her and one of them, back through time."   
  


Prisca paused, her eyes lingering on Wesley, whose lips were pursed in thought. "If . . .if Buffy's vampire nature allows them access, then would not Katerina have been susceptible to the same thing? Why not simply corrupt the first Slayer, rather than doing it this way?"   
  


"Katerina was not as open to them. She devoted all that she was to a single cause. She was not divided as Buffy was. Buffy split herself between her duties, her love, and her life. Katerina had none of that. It made her more focused. It would have been impossible to deter her from her goal. If they intervened in her mind, than it was most likely simply to make her more brutal and cold blooded. It would have suited their plans to put her at war with her own actions when her task had ended. After the war was gone from her concerns, she slept too often to be of use."   
  


"I-I think I understand . . . but why are we here? I know you were fo-forced to let Buffy through, but why us? What can we do here? Why did they WANT Buffy here?" Tara's mouth was set deep in a thoughtful frown.   
  


"Your presence here, and that of your Buffy, has shifted this into a new dimension. One favor, still, do I owe Wolfram & Hart. Can you imagine what that is, vampire?" Her eyes slid from Angel to Spike, leaving it unclear which of them she was referring to.   
  


Spike spoke first, his eyes moving past Prisca to the men and women in the fields beyond the trees. He saw a glint of metal, and on the cool wind he caught the scent of blood, burning, and anger. He blinked and looked away, meeting Prisca's cold gray gaze. "War."   
  


She nodded in affirmation. Wesley nodded as well, as if he'd suspected as much, though the look in his eyes was anything but confident. "Ah. They needed a Slayer who was a vampire to fight their war."   
  


Tara's eyes widened and she shook her head emphatically. "N-no. They needed an undead Slayer to counter the one the other side already had! This war we have to help fight, it's the Watcher Wars! We're supposed to help Katerina!"   
  


Again, Prisca nodded, but her eyes turned to Angel and she waited. He too was staring into the fields, scenting things the humans could not. When finally he spoke, it was with an odd reverence, as if he appreciated the brilliance of their plan. "No. They needed a general. Slayer, vampire . . . those are just bonuses. What matters is that they now have a leader who knows every move the other side will make before they make it." His gaze returned to Prisca. "Buffy regained all of Katerina's memories when she lost her soul, didn't she?"   
  


Prisca nodded. "If she hasn't already, she will very soon."   
  


"What happens if they win the war? The Oracles will move their base of operations to this world - lawyers, demons, and all?" The respect had vanished from Angel's tone. Now it held only anger, and concern.   
  


"No. One final favor, I owe. The dimensions will shift when this is over. If Chaos triumphs, then the other world, your world, will become like so many others, a shadow of the true one. This reality will become the core, shifted into dominance over the others. It will end my debt, along with the reality you knew. The Oracles are creatures of the in between, they exist in no single world, but now have incarnations in millions. Those they chose to favor in your world will merge with the versions of themselves that exist in the new world, or will simply be moved here should they not yet exist in this dimension."   
  


"That's what Wolfram & Hart promises their servants than. A place of power in a world fashioned for them and those they serve." Wesley shook his head. "Rather ingenious, really, promise them something they could never have anywhere else on that world. Money, power. . . those things they could find elsewhere. But a dimension tailor made to put them in dominance isn't as easy thing to come by. No wonder their lawyers are so loyal." He glanced at Angel and smiled faintly. "Well, most of them anyway."   
  


Angel didn't respond, and silence stretched for a long moment. Spike finally broke it. "One thing I still don't get. Well, more than one, but we'll start with this little bit. Why would Buffy go along with it?"   
  


Wesley gave the blonde vampire a long look, then nodded in understanding. "Indeed. Buffy was never one to take orders well. Particularly if they weren't sufficiently explained . . . or asked nicely." A brief smile flickered again across his lips, faded quickly and turned to regret. "Granted, Buffy now lacks a great deal of the girl she was, but why would she be so quick to obey their orders if the mind control they exert is still slight?"   
  


"She was given no choice." Prisca hesitated, and for an instant her form seemed to waver, grow translucent. In a moment it was done, and she was solid again. She sighed heavily. "My time here grows short, my allowance nearly spent. Listen well, and ask quickly. The Oracles of Chaos engineered the appearance of Glorificus long ago. She seeks to destroy the world so that she can return to the demon dimension where she reigned . . . Had Buffy remained as she was, there was little likelihood of the warriors of your world defeating the god. When Buffy turned, the possibility shrank still further. It is all but fact that within a short time your world would merge with that of Glorificus, and cease to be. Buffy knew of Glory's power. The Oracles told her of the god's cause, and the result of her power would be. They told her that if the results of the Watcher War are altered, and the dimensions shifted, then Glorificus will never be released into that new world. And they spoke truthfully."   
  


Tara glanced at her companions, than spoke, her voice hesitant. "Then . . . Buffy agreed to help them to save the world . . . in a way."   
  


"They probably promised her power in the new world, but that fits with what she said in Caritas." Spike hesitated, as if the words pained him. "She said the world had its merits, remember? Didn't want it to end. She didn't think she could stop Glory, and saw that the world was going to end if she didn't, and that made her give up, and she lost her soul." He shook his head. "But she couldn't let it happen, even when she was playing with the bad guys, so she did what the lawyers told her to do, instead of letting it all crash down." His words penetrated the rest of their minds, but they didn't respond. "What do you want us to do about it? What did you plop us down here to do?" Spike's voice was suddenly furious as he rounded again on Prisca, pushing away the pain his words and thoughts had brought back to the surface.   
  


Prisca turned to him, and again her form wavered, nearly vanishing. "Can you not guess?"   
  


"What in the BLOODY HELL good will it do? You let us waltz in after her, then have a heart to heart and tell us all exactly why. But you don't give us a reason, stupid little bitch. What are we supposed to do? Join up with the Slayers? Kill Buffy? Stop the war? Make sure the good guys end up wearing the roses in the circle? What's the point? Our world's going to end, you said so yourself. If we don't let Buffy and her brand new band of merry men win, then don't you think they'll bring that Glory into this dimension? Let her do it here, too? Bring hell to earth and all that? Then we'll have two worlds with the same end, only difference is we're in this one now. I say sod it all. Find a nice city and raise hell for a few hundred years. I could make a bloody fortune, making predictions 'bout the future here." His words were hopeless, but his tone was merely angry, and frustrated.   
  


"I would not have gone to such trouble if there was nothing to be done, Vampire. Join the side of Order. Find a way to stop your Slayer from winning this war. See to it that those who must survive do so. Nothing is written in stone, and it may be that the odds will be defeated, and the friends you left behind will save their world. You, and those you've fought with, have overcome odds such as these before. Few among those who dwell between worlds believed that your Buffy, with the help of the rest of you, would survive the Ascension of the mayor. Yet she did."   
  


"She survived because they already had bigger plans for her, right? Couldn't let the guinea pig die before the doctors were done with the experiment now, could they?"   
  


Prisca looked to Spike and her figure wavered again. But she nodded. "That is possible. Even I do not know the entirety of the plans the Oracles concoct."   
  


He stared back, and there was rancor in his gaze now, directed at the childlike figure. "Why are you helping? What do you care which way this goes? What are you, really?" Wesley opened his mouth to answer but Spike's head snapped around to glare at him before he began. "Wasn't asking you."   
  


Prisca raised a fading hand. "I am the boundary between worlds. Before time, before life, before purpose- I existed. I am endless and ageless. I am the void that locks the edges of realities and keeps them from bleeding together. I am Order's first and greatest creation."   
  


"Uh-huh. Fascinating. Why do you care what happens with this? And why are you in debt to the demon lawyers?"   
  


Her head tilted, gray pupil-less eyes holding Spike's gaze without blinking. "I existed for ages without true consciousness, unaware of what surrounded me, or what I held the lines between. I was aware only of myself, not of what was outside of the vastness of my own existence. My sole purpose was to maintain the boundary. From time to time mortals found a way to move between worlds, ripping holes in the fabric of all that I was and giving me my first look at what existed outside my own purpose. In those brief times, I saw what it meant to be alive. Over eons, a true consciousness awoke, a desire to venture into the worlds I separated. Order had created me as a boundary, it did not serve their purpose to allow my focus to waver. I was offered a chance to walk in the form of a mortal, to visit the worlds for certain amounts of time by the agents of Chaos. It was the only chance I would have. I took it, and owed them a great debt. But my purposes are not theirs. I have seen life, I have walked among humanity and demon kind. I've no desire to see Chaos rule. I move within my limitations, and aid Order where able. This was within my limitations, though barely, so I aided you, and placed you to counter the Oracles' plans." She shrugged, the effect sending ripples down her robes and through her semi-transparent hair, the effect giving her an oddly human appearance. "It is a slim chance, but better than it would have been had I done nothing. The Oracles of Order were too removed for too long, and have not the aspirations of Chaos. Order understands that Chaos must exist to maintain the Balance, Chaos does not acknowledge this. Intentions often make the difference. Order's servants merely wish to preserve the Balance, Chaos wishes to shift all worlds to reflect a new one. With that greater aspiration comes grander plotting and planning. The Oracles of Order could not help you. So I did."   
  


Spike said nothing in response, his eyes glazed and fixed, as if he saw nothing beyond his own consciousness. Tara sighed and spoke, her voice tainted with worry. "I-if we stop Buffy here, and they stop Glory there . . . then what happens to us? Are we just stuck in this other dimension forever?"   
  


Prisca hesitated, her form growing gradually more translucent. Finally she answered Tara. "I cannot open a window back to your world without cause. I allowed it to stay open long enough for you to slip through, thus moving you all into another dimension. To move you back would be a different task, and one I cannot perform of my own volition. We all have our limits." Her head tilted, and her voice grew more faint. "But would it not be worth it, if the world is saved? Put the good of others before your own. No one's fate is sealed. Not entirely."   
  


There was just a faint echo now, her form present only in a vague outline. Angel moved toward her, shouting out a final question. "How do we find Katerina's army? And where is Buffy?"   
  


When Prisca's voice spoke a final time, it was tinged with that odd hint of possible amusement. "One will lead you to the other, when needed. And that one is right in front of your eyes, vampire." With that, she was gone.   
  


Spike turned and stared out again at the distant figures, the odd look gone from his face. Suddenly he swore. "Stupid little bint! She put her two vampire heroes and their sidekicks down in the middle of a camp full of an army of Slayers!"   
  


Angel nodded. Wesley glanced between the two of them. "How in the world are we going to convince Katerina to let us help when the two of you are . . . on unfamiliar terms with daylight?" His voice lowered. "And I am NOT a sidekick."   
  


Angel and Spike both shook their heads, their eyes distant, ignoring Wesley's last remark. Angel turned in a slow circle, then shook his head, smiling slightly. "We'd better figure it out quickly though."   
  


Tara frowned. "W-why?"   
  


Spike sighed needlessly. "Hoofbeats. Coming this way." He glanced at the spot where Prisca had been and scowled. "Don't she have the timing?"   
  


In a moment, the hoofbeats were close enough for Wesley and Tara to hear as well. They were coming not from the fields in front, but from the trees to their east. Wesley thought frantically, muttering beneath his breath. "How are the two of you at climbing trees?" He smiled faintly at the image. The vampires, however, found it less amusing.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


The memories she drifted through were the ones she was supposed to have believed in, but rejected. Her life with her friends, family, and loved ones drifted through her mind, complete with the addition she hadn't accepted. She accepted it now, though she couldn't believe in it. She saw the life she hadn't lived with the girl they'd told her was her sister. As memories she'd forgotten drifted through, many of them false, or altered, she saw in the distance the dim shadows of the true life, the one where Dawn didn't exist. Briefly, she regretted that she'd remembered her life with Dawn wasn't real. Then she'd drifted back through her own childhood, and Dawn vanished again, along with her brief pang of regret. Now she floated in an emotionless, comfortable void. She saw her own childhood and infancy, then she saw nothing. She floated through a gray haze, drifting gently through the cool, swirling gray sea, alone and at peace. It was comforting, it was welcome. It ended far too quickly.   
  


The return to earth was jarring, painful, and abrupt. Her body suddenly felt heavy, the earth beneath her kneeling figure was rough and overly pungent. Voices spoke in what she supposed were hushed tones around her. To her ears though, it sounded like a tidal wave of shrill noise. She knelt there, her eyes slowly regaining their focus, her limbs returning to a feeling of normalcy, the sensitivity of her ears fading. When a soft touch on her shoulder broke into her thoughts, she snarled faintly and straightened to glare with yellow eyes at the one who'd disturbed her. The blue skinned Oracle merely smiled faintly. He seemed undisturbed by the trip through the portal. She wondered if he had memories to live through as well, or if it was all the same place to him. "We've arrived." His voice was amused, it irritated her instantly.   
  


Her face shifted to its human appearance and she turned from the Oracle to face the rest of the voices she'd heard. They stood in a huddled bunch, dressed in a motley assortment of Period movie clothing. She'd seen Elizabeth, and they wore much prettier clothes than this. Weird, but pretty. This was probably the wrong time period or something though, she never was any good at history. One stood apart, looking at her with coldly appraising brown eyes. His gaze shifted when she met it, turning instead to the Oracle. "This is her, then?" The blue man said nothing, but nodded. The man's eyes returned to her, as he shifted his considerable paunch into a posture of disapproval. "She looks ill trained. Even our youngest are more muscled. It is no wonder she was turned." The disdain in his voice was unmistakable as he addressed Buffy. "Come Slayer. Our leaders await a meeting with you."   
  


Buffy smiled slowly, and the Oracle shook his head faintly. "My sister warned you that she was not as the Slayers you know are. You chose not to listen. The fault is yours."   
  


The man's brow wrinkled in confusion as he looked from the grinning Slayer to the Oracle. "The fault for what?"   
  


Buffy stretched languorously, back arching, her mouth set in a smile. She finished her stretch and ran her hands through her hair as she moved toward the man, who backed away. "I think he means THIS is your fault, tubby." She reached out with lightning fast arms and gripped the man's shoulders. He shouted as she pulled him toward her. She ignored him, pushing his head roughly to the side as she sank her now-fanged teeth into his throat. The shout turned to a whimper as the blood rushed through her lips. In moments, it died away all together.   
  


Euphoria ran through her. A surge of energy pleasure ran through her as the blood ran down her throat. Live blood. Live human blood. It was more than she'd imagined. She lost herself in it, hearing the snarls rising from her throat without realizing they were her own. It was over far too quickly, the blood tapped, the body turning cold. She flung it away, still hungry. She turned with glittering yellow eyes to face the pale, angry crowd who'd watched her drain their spokesman. She could hear the blood in their veins and it sang to her. She smiled and moved toward the nearest one. A hand on her shoulder distracted her. She spun to face the Oracle who'd dared interrupt her. She could hear his heartbeat and blood as well, though it sounded different. He smelled of an odd nothingness, she wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. He spoke and she scowled, her face shifting back as she waited impatiently for him to finish. She barely listened, only the final words catching her attention. " . . . master your urges. Blood is new to you. If you allow the obsession to rule you, then you will be as ineffectual as any newborn vampire, despite your power."   
  


She nodded in response, irritated by his perception and presumption, and turned back to the assembled men. Her eyes assessed them as they had done to her moments before. "Watchers, right?" She shook her head. "Nice to know that even in the past the Council remains ineffectual and obnoxious." She grinned. "Though you taste better than I expected."   
  


They murmured, finally another man detached himself from them and moved toward her. "Slayer . . . please come with me. The heads of the Council eagerly await you."   
  


She shrugged. "Wouldn't wanna keep them waiting." She smiled slightly. "Well, actually I would. But I'll resist my naughty impulses and be a good little Slayer." She turned to the Oracle. "You coming Smurfette?" He fell silently in behind her as she followed her nervous guide through an immense double doorway and into a fortress like building. She followed him down straight, rough, dark corridors, the rest of the Watchers following at a distance. She found the dark, solid hallways oppressive, and itched to be outside again. She stifled the urge as they finally halted in front of a large, ill-fitting oak door. Obviously, craftsmanship and design were not big on their list of priorities around here. Their guide opened the door for her and stepped aside. She moved through the doorway, the Oracle walking with eerie quiet at her back.   
  


She expected a throne room, from the whole setup and the attitude of the little toad she'd followed in. Instead she saw a fairly normal scene, save for the torches and lamps that lit the room in the absence of electricity. Several older men who reminded her distinctly of Quentin Travers sat around large square tables in leather bound chairs. Two of them sipped from, shockingly enough, teacups and a third held a lit pipe to his mouth, which accounted for the foul tobacco-laden smell of the room. It was an oddly unthreatening scene, and a part of her mind was unsettled by the idea that it was men like this she had fought against. No, that was wrong. She hadn't fought, Katerina had.   
  


She shook her head and turned so she could see the rest of the large room, aware that the men's eyes were now on her, and that the rest of the Watchers who had greeted her were crowding into the room behind her. Her eyes flashed over the shadowed corner the Watcher she'd followed here was moving toward and suddenly the scene lost its oddly tranquil feel as a pair of inhuman eyes stared back at her. It stood alone in the corner, leaning against the wall in an oddly human gesture of insolent impatience, listening silently as the Watcher whispered words she heard quite clearly in its ear. It was obvious why it wasn't sitting with the rest, the tail and wings probably got in the way. Plus it would probably splinter the chair. She wondered how they had gotten it in here, it would probably have to duck to get through even this room's large door.   
  


Familiarity tickled her mind in more ways than one. A conversation with Kat's voice, talking of a Boonagath demon who took on the mind and power of her former Watcher, and an idle moment in the long-gone high school library; Xander shoving a large book with an engraving that looked much as this monster did, cracking some joke as she pushed the book away. As she stared at it, those images faded and instead she saw a war. She saw the demon's massive black clawed hands tearing through a girl's chest. She saw the huge gray wings lifting it out of reach of their weapons, heard its fanged, black lipped mouth laugh as its gold eyes glinted with a sly amusement that was maddeningly familiar. She saw the red body, barbed tail lashing, coiled, ready to spring while its voice, hoarse and bestial but tinged with a refined accent that didn't fit its monstrous appearance, intoned a spell. She looked through eyes that were, and weren't, her own and watched people die as they fought to kill this thing.   
  


It stared back with its oddly pretty gold eyes and smiled slowly. After a long moment, she returned the smile. She knew they were allies now. She knew he saw nothing of the girl he knew in her. She knew all of that. But the smile was still filled with hatred. "Stephan."   
  


The demon's smile widened. "Buffy, I presume?" A glint of his eyes. "And more, if our friend has done his job?" The gaze turned to the Oracle.   
  


The blue man nodded. "She is all you expected. My sister begs you remember all you have been told."   
  


One of the Watchers at the table cleared his throat. "You know your job, girl? You will serve us?"   
  


Buffy tore her eyes away from the demon who had once been Katerina's watcher. The icy smile turned to one of genuine amusement. "Blue boy's sister told me what you want. I'm on board. But there's a few problems. See, I had a Watcher. He was a good guy really, if a bit heavy on the tweed at first, but I never took well to orders. I didn't even take them well from him, who I liked. I doubt I'll do much better taking them from guys like you, who I have a fairly low opinion of. And the Council I know, they love orders like Scooby loves his snacks. That could be a problem. I don't do what I'm told. I'm all James Dean that way. Think you boys can deal with that?"   
  


The Watcher at the table looked outraged and somewhat puzzled. "You were summoned to serve us, and lead our army through this war. You dare refuse?"   
  


"See, that's much better. Lead. I'm here to lead you, not listen. I don't jump when you say so, you jump when I tell you. Now granted, you could all probably group together and kill me, but would that help you? Keep me happy, and I'll win this for you. Ignore me, piss me off, or just be overly annoying and I'll make sure you lose. It's up to you." Buffy shrugged.   
  


They stared at her in horrified silence. The Watcher at the table, the leader she guessed, turned to Stephan with an expression of insulted pride. "We were told to expect an unorthodox Slayer, but you said nothing of this. We are the Council, the Slayers are our servants and warriors. She will aid the cause of the other side with her insolence!"   
  


Stephan said nothing, instead his eyes were trained on Buffy. She stared back and after a long moment he looked away. To her fury, he began to laugh. Deep, bellowing alien rumbles of laughter bubbled up from his chest. He shook with it. When finally he quieted, it was Buffy he spoke to. "You will lead our armies. Our Slayers will defer to you and we will heed your demands." He shook his horned head. "Never did I imagine we would fight on the same side again, little Twilight, who fights for both sides and yet will betray neither by doing so."   
  


Buffy stiffened. "I am not Twilight. I know what she knew, I remember what she did, but we're not the same. Though both of us dislike you to an unhealthy extent. I distinctly remember that killing you was a real pleasure moment, though Katerina once told me differently. Memories don't lie though, and watching you die definitely gave her a happy. Me too, though I really only get to see an instant replay in my head."   
  


His eyes darkened and the Oracle leaned toward her and spoke in a slow voice, as if to a child. "Now Buffy, you know that this must work if you wish your world to survive, and the rewards you are promised. You and Stephan must work together. It is essential. You know that."   
  


Buffy nodded sagely. "Yes. That's true. Your sister told me. He's important, I'm important. War's important, yadda yadda yadda. Bet I know something you don't though." Buffy smiled, and spun on her heel to face the Oracle. She struck out with her fist, slamming it into his face with stunning force. He cried out and raised his hands, stumbling and falling to his knees. She kicked him hard in the chest and he fell back onto the floor, hands falling to his sides. He met her gaze with angry eyes and she smiled cheekily. "You, happily, are NOT important. I think the words your sister used were 'expendable, weak, and tiresome.'" She shook her head in mock sadness. "Pretty harsh if you ask me. It's so sad when families don't get along. Maybe you two should get some family counseling." She lifted her foot and placed it almost gently on his neck. He reached up, clawing at her booted ankle ineffectually. She ignored it, pushing his chin to the side, then slamming her weight onto his neck, breaking it. He went still, hands falling away from her ankle. "Then again, therapy is overrated."   
  


She turned and smiled at Stephan, who was watching with detachment. "Sorry the fuzzy little Watchers had to see such violence. But I was working on a recommendation from his sister."   
  


The demon smiled again. "I know. If you hadn't done it, I would have. She does enjoy having a backup plan, does she not?" He gestured toward the table expansively. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss. Are you hungry?" His smile widened. "Though I heard you already ate." He cast his eyes toward the Watcher who had led Buffy here.   
  


Her smile turned menacing as her eyes followed his. "Well, it was more a snack than a meal, really. Watchers are like Chinese, you're always hungry again ten minutes later." The Watcher blanched and moved away from her. She walked to the table and sank into a chair at its head, forcing the most outspoken of them out of his seat in the process. He glared briefly, then sat stiffly in another chair offered to him by a younger Watcher. Stephan moved closer to the table, settling onto a large, crude stool that had obviously been constructed, badly, just for him. Buffy glanced around the room, then smiled widely. "So, when do I get to meet my troops?"   
  


Stephan's golden eyes shifted oddly as he heard the note of resentment in her voice, and saw the anger behind her smile. He answered her. "Soon enough. It would be best if you had limited contact with those who actually fight, to prevent you growing attached to any of them."   
  


She rolled her eyes. "I'm SURE that's why you don't want me near the little Slayers. And that it has nothing to do with my being a bad influence, what with that pesky independent streak I've got going on.   
  


He frowned. "Perhaps."   
  


She scowled and slumped back in the chair. "So when, exactly, am I? Details people? Battles already fought, tactics already tried, and so forth. I may be all knowing, but I have to get my bearings here." She pretended not to notice as several badly dressed young men - servants most likely - began dragging out the lifeless body of the Oracle.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	12. Familiar Strangers

  
  
Part Eleven: 

Familiar Strangers   
  
"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." -- Lewis Carroll   
  
  
  


"You're either phenomenally brave, or criminally stupid to come here. As it is broad daylight and two of you aren't fond of the sun, the latter seems far more likely." They'd known how close she must be, but her sudden appearance was still startling. She sat in a bright patch of glaring sunlight that obscured all but the general outline of her from their blinking eyes. Her small form was barely discernible atop the massive warhorse. A taller, more lanky form sat behind her, his arms wrapped around her waist in a white knuckled death-grip. The horse snorted and tossed its head impatiently. She ignored it and moved further forward. As the sun lost its hold, she came into clear focus.   
  


She was and was not just as they remembered her. Same long black hair, but now pulled back into a tight braid. Gone were the modern, oddly fashionable clothes. In their place was leather armor held together by strips of gleaming metal. Her silver eyes blazed at them and her face was set in an emotionless mask. It was only because he knew her so well that Angel could see the affront she felt at their presence. She looked like a fantasy novel come to life, from the leather armor to the huge, wild-eyed black Charger. He could see the hilts of daggers sheathed at her belt, and the worn grip of a sword encased in the leather of the stallion's saddle. Only the boy sitting double behind her distracted from the picture. She was The Eternal Twilight, inhuman and fierce. And damned if he didn't want to jump forward and yank her from that horse and shake the steel out of her arrow-straight spine.   
  


"Kitten?" Spike's breathed greeting snapped Angel from his reverie. He turned slightly to see the younger vampire's face. Spike's expression was an odd mix of wonder, astonishment, and anger. Angel could relate. Knowing what was going to happen, and actually looking into her face were two very different things.   
  


The word brought her sharp silver gaze to him and she scowled as she took in his strange - to her - appearance. Platinum haired vampires probably weren't as common just now. She shifted her attention to Tara and Wesley, nostrils flared slightly. He knew she was scenting their humanity, and drawing her own conclusions about their association with Spike and him. She turned back to the two vampires. "Daylight or no, I suggest you leave these woods. The Slayers among my army may be sworn by my oath to leave those of your blood unharmed, but those who are not Called are not bound by my promise, and will hunt you down." She nodded toward Wesley and Tara. "Your pets will stay with us. I may not be able to kill you, but I'll deprive you of a meal or a future playmate, whichever you had planned for these."   
  


Wesley cleared his throat and stepped forward. The black horse swung his head around and eyed him, menace in the big eyes. He hurriedly moved back again, but took advantage of Kat's attention. "Katerina, this is going to be difficult for you to believe. But my name is Wesley Wyndham-Price, and I was once a Watcher. We-"   
  


Kat's gaze had sharpened at his words and she interrupted. "The Watchers ally with vampires now? And ones who bear the bloodline of The Master?" Her eyes turned to Angel. "Do you turn against the sire of your line and help those who fight against his childe?" Amusement tinged her words at the last, as if she could hardly believe she'd referred to herself in such a way. The boy clutching the edge of the saddle behind her looked appalled at her choice of words, his already pale face going pure white, his freckles standing out in sharp relief against the colorless tone of his skin.   
  


"No, you don't understand. Please, let me finish. We were sent here to help you. We're from a different time. I was a Watcher for the Council you created, the one that exists in the future after you've won the war. The Powers that Be sent us to help you, because the other side has interceded to insure that you lose, even though you are destined to win." Wesley paused, obviously well aware of how nonsensical his quickly-uttered words had been.   
  


A smile sat firmly on her face, though there was little amusement in it. "Ahh, the greater powers sent me two vampires and their chosen meals to help me win their holy war, is that it? Success is assured, now!!" She turned slightly and spoke to the boy behind her. "Go to John and Nicholas, tell them the woods need a cleaning. Stay to the sunlight, in case more are hidden. Make sure he sends the Uncalled. The Slayers can have no part in this." The boy sent a fearful glance toward Spike and Angel, then nodded. He slid carefully to the ground then sprinted for the sun-lit fields, long legs carrying him at a swift, though woefully ungraceful pace. Katerina smiled again and turned back to the vampires. "I'll not think less of you if you run now. Time is wasting."   
  


"N-no, we're telling the truth. The Oracles sent someone through, someone who kn-knows all about you. She's going to lead the Watchers' army against you. She's from the future, like us, and she knows everything you're going to d-do. Please, we know you, from years from now. We were your friends . . ." Tara's voice trailed off as she saw an odd expression cross Katerina's face.   
  


The Slayer stared at the girl for a long moment, then her gaze slid past her to the other three. "What does the Council seek to gain with such games?" She spoke quietly to herself, lifting one hand to push a stray hair from her eyes in a gesture both Spike and Angel found comfortingly familiar. The stallion took advantage of her distraction, plunging and shaking his head violently. Irritation crossed her face as she returned both hands to the reins and brought the horse back under control. The annoyance was still there when she spoke. "Girl, whatever it is they sent you to do you've failed. If you come with the vampires in hopes of eternal life, then let me assure you that it is not a thing to be sought after. It is also a thing rarely given, more likely they will simply eat you and go about their way. Come with me if you wish to survive. If not, then your own foolishness is to be blamed for your death. I'll have no more part in it. The woods will be cleaned. Be gone or you will die. It is a greater boon than I should allow such as you." The last she directed toward Angel, who was frowning at the formal way she spoke, which was so unlike the way he'd last heard her.   
  


She swung the protesting stallion around, obviously intent on leaving. Wesley and Tara both called after her, she ignored them both. Angel's thoughts raced as he desperately tried to think of what to say to stop her. His mind was blank. She wouldn't believe anything he had to say.   
  


"You hate that stallion." Spike's loud voice startled them all. Kat halted the horse, swinging him back around questioningly. Spike's eyes locked onto Katerina's and he spoke in a flat, even voice. "His name is Midnight, but you call him Dim. One of the blokes in your army, used to play for the Watchers but crossed over to your side of the war, he makes you ride that horse. Always wants you to play the hero, be the larger than life 'Twilight' people except. Says it builds your legend. But you hate it. He makes you ride 'round on that bad-tempered beast. There's a little mare you trained yourself that you ride when he's not looking. Sorrel thing, with teacup feet and white legs. You called her Rose."   
  


Kat stared at him with widened, slightly angry eyes. "Who told you that, vampire?"   
  


He didn't answer, just kept on. "Your hair is brown. You dyed it when you first became a vamp, because you were trying on a disguise or something. I was never clear on the reason. That same prat from the Council makes you keep dying it. All part of the image. You finally used some magic mojo Aggie taught you to make the color permanent and shut him up. You've a crooked tattoo on the center of your back. Aggie told you it was a power symbol, but the witch couldn't draw straight, so you wound up with a lopsided squiggle. You-"   
  


Midnight plunged forward, feeding off his rider's emotions. He danced in place as she brought him in front of Spike, front feet lifting off the ground to paw at the air with huge, metal tipped hooves. Her sword was drawn and she glared down at him, blade at his throat. "How in the name of God did you know that, vampire? Who told you my secrets?"   
  


Spike reached up slowly and pushed the blade away with a typically arrogant gesture. "You did, Kitten. There's more. I could go on, but your friends will be here any minute with pointy wooden things to turn me into dust. Things are going to change, luv. Listen to us. Take us to your camp, tie us up. But listen to what we have to say. You don't like it, we can always play with the pointy wood later. Dust is dust- what difference will a few hours make, Katerina?" The last sentence spilled slowly from his mouth as he deliberately called her by the name he knew so few people used.   
  


Katerina stared down at him as the sound of approaching hooves grew louder. Midnight stilled, raising his head and trumpeting furiously at the oncoming horses. In a moment several more armed horsemen burst into the woods, displacing enough shady leaves to send Angel and Spike skittering backward. The one in the lead scowled at them, then turned uncertainly to Kat. "Twilight? Shall we take care of them for you?" The rider behind him raised a crossbow and trained the sights carefully on Angel's chest.   
  


Katerina said nothing for a long moment, then shook her head as she sheathed her sword. "Put down your weapons. Bring them to Meeting tent. Bind them carefully. Mind those two, they are of the Master's line and old enough to be strong. Shield them from the sun, I need them alive. Bring the other two as well. They may remain unbound so long as they cause no trouble." Another rider charged in. This one was a young blonde girl riding a large, fat pony. She wore an impossibly wide grin and jumped gracefully off her pony as soon as it came to a halt. Katerina scowled at her. "Leonie, I expressly ordered the Slayers to stay away from here. Did Sean not tell them that?"   
  


The girl nodded. "He did. I come only to watch. I promise."   
  


Katerina sighed. "If you continue to refuse to follow orders, you will not last long as a Slayer, Leonie." The child looked chastised, but Angel couldn't tell if it was real or feigned. "As long as you're here though, help secure these and bring them to the Meeting tent. The vampires must be protected from the sun. Take the humans to my tent for the moment, under guard. Watch for tricks. I must go speak with John." The girl looked pleased at the assignment, moving purposefully forward and yanking the rope from one of the men's hands, hurrying forward to secure an unresisting Spike herself. Katerina levied her gaze first at the blonde vampire, then toward Angel. "Step a foot in the wrong direction, and an entire army will stand in line to stake you." With that she spun the stallion around on his haunches and thundered away.   
  


Spike sighed. "She always did like to make an exit. OUCH!!" The girl binding his wrists gave him a fierce warning glare as she twisted the ropes against his skin. "Fine, right. We'll be quiet then."   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


They had lost track of Wesley and Tara quickly. The two had been pulled onto horses and taken away while Angel and Spike were still being bound and covered. Their captors ensured their safety - covering them in several thick, dark fabrics and moving them quickly once they were bound - but gave little thought to their comfort. The ropes bit deeply into their skin, and the blankets smothered them. Had they needed to breath, they wouldn't have been able to. They were pushed blindly into a wagon of some type, and driven away. Blinded by the blankets, they couldn't tell which direction they were taken, but Angel knew they were being taken to the central camp of Katerina's army.   
  


It was probably only a few minutes, but if felt much longer before the wagon jerked to a halt and they were pulled roughly down. Human hands pushed them down into chairs and unwound the blankets from their bodies, leaving their hands and legs bound, and adding more ropes as they tied them to the chairs. Angel smiled slightly. At least it was ropes this time, much less chafing than the chains.   
  


The men left quickly after the vampires had been secured, though Angel could see two of their shadows beside the sun-bright opening of the tent. He and Spike had been placed in the back, well out of the reach of the light. The tent was large and crude, made of some type of rough cotton canvas. A large, badly made table sat in the center surrounded by nearly a dozen stools. The only two chairs in the room were the ones the vampires had been tied in. The table had been strewn with maps when the blankets were first removed, but the departing men had gathered them up and taken the rolled maps out with them, casting disapproving glances toward the vampires as they did so.   
  


Spike groaned beside him and shifted unhappily, obviously attempting to loosen the ropes. "Do not bother. You are not the first vampires we've tied. We keep a couple for training the young ones, you know. Not so old as you though, usually. Young ones - easy kills. Little ones are not ready for ones like you yet. What happened to your head? Did it come that color?"   
  


Spike's head snapped around at the first words. His narrowed gaze settled on the blonde Slayer-child who had helped bind him. She stood in the glare of the opening, slightly to one side, half turned toward the front of the tent. Her gaze flicked from their faces to the opening with nervous frequency. Spike smiled slowly. "Not supposed to be here, are ya luv? Big Kat said not to play with the new toys yet."   
  


The girl shrugged. Angel judged her to be thirteen or so, young enough for her limbs to be too long for her still boyish body. "I am a Slayer, I can do as I like." The arrogant statement was undermined by the anxious glance she sent toward the door. She turned back to Spike. "Did your head come that color?" She repeated.   
  


Spike shook his head in irritation. "It's just dye pet. Natural color's a bit darker." He smiled winningly at her. "What's your name then?"   
  


"You did that on purpose? It is the color of a dead man's skin." Angel found the comparison disturbing. The girl was too young to know what a corpse looked like. "I'm the Slayer. You don't need to know my name." The girl spoke with the accent of someone whose teachers had tried, with limited success, to improve her manner of speaking. "Besides, I don't know yours, so why should I tell you mine?"   
  


Spike's smile didn't fade. "Name's Spike. My silent neanderthal-like bondage partner here is named Angel. And you, if I remember correctly, were Leonie, right?"   
  


Leonie laughed lightly, though she looked somewhat puzzled. "Angel? It is a woman's name, and a blasphemous one at that." She studied Angel for a moment. "It doesn't suit you."   
  


Angel shook his head and smiled at her. "So I've been told."   
  


She blinked and seemed on the verge of asking something when a thin figure filled the tent's opening. The boy who'd ridden with Katerina earlier stomped into the tent, casting a disdainful glance toward the bound vampires then promptly ignoring them. Instead he scowled at Leonie, who sighed at his expression. "Leonie! You're not ta be in here and ya know it. They're wanting ya in the training circle. 'Tis your turn with the young ones. Mind orders for once and hurry ta your place." The boy's voice held a distinctly Irish lilt that Angel couldn't help but smile at. He'd had a cousin once who sounded just like him.   
  


Leonie tossed her head defiantly and glared. "It is not your right to tell me where to be, Sean. You're not even a Watcher yet, and I am already a proven Slayer- first among the younger hunters. Put your nose in a book, where it belongs, and leave me be." She spared the two vampires a final glance, then turned and marched out of the tent without another word for the boy. He flushed slightly and glanced at his audience guiltily before slipping out of the tent's entrance, leaving them alone.   
  


Spike sighed and lounged back as comfortably as his bindings would allow. "Seems to be some dissension in the ranks. Might want to mention that to the little General. If she ever remembers we're tied up here waiting for her. Probably wouldn't care, bitch leaves us twiddling our thumbs while the junior members of her army put on a little play for us." He glared at the entrance, as if blaming it for Katerina's absence.   
  


Angel shook his head. "I doubt it matters. Chances are that little relationship was there the first time around too." He was silent for a moment, uncertain of his next words. "That was good - back there I mean." He said the words as if complimenting Spike caused him physical pain.   
  


Spike glanced at him, then shrugged, the movement barely noticeable because of the ropes. "Yeah well, one of us had to say something. The witch and the Watcher were useless, and you weren't doing anything but taking up vast amounts of space. If I didn't step up I'd be dust in the wind right about now."   
  


Angel grunted in response, then hesitantly asked, "She-she dyes her hair?"   
  


Spike raised his eyebrows. "What-you didn't know?" He rolled his eyes. "You thought that blue-black color of hers is natural? Please. Can't get color like without going to a bottle."   
  


He shrugged irritably. "I'm not the expert you are on home hair color techniques."   
  


"No. You stick to the mousse and gel end of the haircare spectrum, right?" Spike snorted irritably. "Damn ropes itch like hell."   
  


"She never told me that. Any of that. The stuff you were saying back then? When did she tell you?" Angel's eyes were fixed on the front of the tent as he spoke.   
  


Spike studied him for moment. "Don't know mate. One of a dozen nights over a beer at some pub probably. That's the only way I could get her talking 'bout herself, usually. Always been the closemouthed sort." He paused. "Actually, it was never a beer. She's a pricey date, doesn't drink the cheap stuff."   
  


Angel hunched his shoulders as best he could. "She never drank anything with me, cheap or not. It was always either arguing, or serious discussions, or silence with us. She wouldn't talk about herself."   
  


Spike shifted again, highly frustrated with the ropes. "Did you ever bother to ask?"   
  


Angel sighed. "Not often enough, probably." He went silent for a moment. "She came at a time when nothing was certain for me, and all our time was spent trying to figure out what I was, how I would survive. I guess I didn't think much about her because I thought she already knew the answers to the questions I was asking. Guess I was wrong." He shook his head. "Or maybe I was just a self-involved idiot."   
  


"You can put my vote in the second column on that one. I've been saying it for years, glad to know you finally came over to my way of thinking. Next we'll discuss this whole 'tortured soul' act of yours. So you've a soul and were a bit on the evil side for a few decades? Move on already. I'm bored just listening to that last little gem you imparted. Don't know how the Beauty Queen and the rest manage to live with it 'round the clock." Spike smiled slightly at Angel's scowl, obviously happy to have annoyed the other vampire.   
  


"Remind me why I didn't stake you when I had the chance?"   
  


"Lingering affection. That and the fact that you're a giant, mincing wanker who doesn't have the stones to do anything remotely manly anymore." Angel glared, but said nothing in response. After a moment they heard raised voices outside. The topic of conversation was obvious, even from the few snippets they could make out through the tent walls. Spike grinned. "All the little Slayers in a tizzy over us. Probably about to march in here to gawk at the nasty tied vampires."   
  


"Gawk, and then stake us, more likely." Spike's smile faded at that. Angel listened for a moment, trying to pick out Katerina's voice from the crowd, but he didn't hear her. When he spoke it was abrupt, unplanned. "She's different here. Colder."   
  


Spike shot him a glance. "Stands to reason. She's leading an army here, has to be a bit on the bitchy side to get things done probably."   
  


Angel shook his head. "It's not that. It's more than that. She's . . . not the Katerina I knew. Not right now."   
  


Spike shrugged, though his face registered a touch of melancholy. "Not the same one I knew either. And the girl you knew? Chances are she bears only a passing resemblance to the Kat I spun 'round town with. Kitten wore personalities like masks. She slipped into the one that fitted the part she was playing. She was the reigning queen of adaptability. Don't think any of us has ever seen her naked face, not really. Maybe we've all seen pieces." He was silent for a moment. "Or maybe what we saw was all a lie. Maybe underneath it all she's nothing, just the Slayer they needed to win a war. The rest was just art." He shook his head. "Either way, I don't think either of us really knew her. I don't think anyone has ever really known her. Not even back here."   
  


Angel let the silence hang for a time. His voice was quiet when he spoke. "Buffy knew her. She knows her now."   
  


Spike laughed bitterly. "Yeah, and just look at all the good it's done her."   
  


Angel was saved a response when a new figure strode into the tent. This one was older than any they'd seen so far, though still fairly young- mid twenties at most. He was tall and wore simple, functional clothing. His only armor was a leather breastplate and his only weapon was a single dagger at his belt. He stared at them without speaking with large, intelligent brown eyes. After a moment Angel heard another raised voice outside, this one closer than the others and unmistakably Katerina. The irritation was plain in her tone, even muffled as it was. He heard her order the group outside to leave. A moment later she too stepped into the tent, the persistent Leonie at her back. She whirled and glared at the younger Slayer, pushing her out the entrance and pulling the tent flaps firmly closed behind her. She sighed heavily and glanced at the tall young man. "It is impossible to keep a secret here. I've a dozen angry Slayers and half again that many Watchers already demanding I allow the vampires to be killed without interrogation. And through it all that child shadows me and defies my orders."   
  


The young man smiled slightly at her, a nervous edge in his voice. "She is older than you when first you began active duty. Hardly a child."   
  


"She is a child, her actions say so quite clearly. And my age is irrelevant." Katerina waved toward the entrance. "Where is Nicholas?"   
  


"Tending to the training. He will be here in a moment." He walked further into the tent, sitting on one of the stools at the head of the table, facing the vampires. "Where have you put the humans that were with them?"   
  


"They are in my tent, guarded of course. Does Nicholas bring Catherine?" Angel studied Katerina for a moment, earning him a quick, glaring glance from her. There had been an odd edge to her voice at the other woman's name.   
  


The man didn't notice, only shook his head. "I don't know. She had not yet woken when last I asked. She is weary still from last night." His gaze settled on Spike. "This is the one then? He claims to know you?" Katerina nodded, eyes flicking toward the closed tent flap. The young man nodded at Spike. "My name is John. Against the better judgement of many of the members of this army, Twilight let you live long enough to speak to us. Tell us all you know, and the purpose behind your presence here, and we'll release you. Fail to tell us and you'll die slowly, by the hands of amateur fighters." He smiled slightly. "They rarely find the heart on the first try. Or the ninth."   
  


Spike sighed heavily. "Look mate, I'm tied to a chair, my arms itch, and if I had circulation, it'd be cut off. You want to have a nice little chat, why don't you cut the ropes? You've got the world's most famous Slayer in the room, I think you're safe from two little vamps."   
  


John frowned, but Kat laid her hand on his arm. "No. It doesn't matter. They're not going anywhere." Spike stared at her, surprised that she'd given in so quickly. She avoided his gaze, pulling one of the daggers from her belt and kneeling to slice through the ropes that held them. It only took a moment. She left them to pull the ropes free themselves and backed away to pull herself onto the table to sit with deceptive casualness. Neither vampire failed to notice the stake she'd pulled from beneath her belt and was now idly waving back and forth. She smiled at them, and the lazy smile was more familiar to them, as was the curiously irritated light in her eyes. Spike stretched languidly and tossed his ropes aside. Angle merely yanked his bindings free, then held them in a ball in his fist, toying with them as he watched Katerina. Her silver gaze stared at his without blinking for a long moment, then turned to Spike, who now slouched insolently in his chair. "Comfortable? Now tell me all you know. You've heard John's promise. Should you fail to answer me, you'll wish I'd let him see his punishment through."   
  


Angel ignored her words, his gaze lingering on John instead. The man visibly flinched at her threat, his brown eyes filled with an emotion that hovered somewhere between fear and worry. The man sensed his gaze and returned it for a long moment. When finally he looked away, there was an odd look of confusion on the man's face. Spike's voice at his side startled him. "You're not going to believe what we have to say, Kitten."   
  


She stiffened. "My name is Twilight, vampire. Use it."   
  


"Not your name. It's your bloody title. But if you want me to play the name game, best start by learning mine first."   
  


She glared at him before finally breaking into a slight smile. "What is your name?"   
  


Spike smiled triumphantly. "You can call me Spike. This is Angel. And we're the ghosts of Christmas future." He chuckled softly, amused at his own comparison, earning a glare from Angel.   
  


"I've seen ghosts, you're nothing like them. Your names are unfamiliar to me, yet I know the names of all the elders amongst the Master's line. How is it I do not know yours? It does no good to lie, we will know eventually if you speak a falsehood." John's voice held a familiar note of intrigue, the same one Angel had heard so often in Wesley's. He groaned inwardly. Curiosity must be an innate Watcher trait. John frowned suddenly and turned to Katerina, a timid question in his eyes. "You are certain they are of The Master's bloodline, yes?"   
  


She spared him a quick glance, a flash of wry amusement moving across her face. "I am. I recognize those of my own over-large family, John." The man flinched again at her phrasing, irritation in his expression. She ignored him and waved a languid hand toward the vampires. "Answer him."   
  


Spike hesitated and glanced at Angel. The older vampire thought for a moment, then sighed, tossing aside the balled up ropes. "Because we don't exist yet. We were sent back from another time to help you." He shook his head. The story not only sounded crazy - it sounded stupid. "I know how that sounds, but it's true. I know you have ways of finding out the truth. I know because, years from now, you TOLD me what your army was capable of. I know you have mind readers here - though less than the Council, you said - and witches and warlocks capable of casting a truth spell. We're more than willing to allow you to do that."   
  


"You are not in a position to allow anything . . . Angel." Her voice tripped over his name, a smile crossing her lips. "And if you know of mind readers, than you know that they are not capable of divining the thoughts of a vampire. Even if they were, it is possible for thoughts to lie - should they be trained, or bespelled to do so. Difficult, yes, but possible." She shifted, leaning back on her hands in a casual pose Angel had seen her take dozens of times before. "Truth spells are unreliable when practiced on the undead. We've experimented with many of them. There are only two that work on vampires. And yes, we've those among us who can perform them." Her smile turned threatening. "Both versions are, however, highly painful. I've been told it feels like each answer is ripped from your throat. It would be wiser, and less taxing, if you simply told the truth now."   
  


Spike laughed. "Right, easier. That's a whopper if I've ever heard one. We could tell you anything, make up a hundred good stories, each more convincing than the one before. And I still guarantee that no matter what we say, you'd use your little truth spell on us anyway. Just to make sure. You're a thorough type, K-Twilight. Won't leave a chance that we're lying to you. So get on with it already. Bring on the witches and the magic spells. Set your suspicious little mind at ease so we can get down to business, do what we were sent here for."   
  


Kat's eyes were burning at Spike's callous comments, but it was John who spoke. "And what, exactly, is it you claim to be sent here to do?"   
  


"Win a war, save the world, and keep the bad guys out of the end zone."   
  


John glared at Spike. "Are you purposely vague and nonsensical, or are you slow of wit?"   
  


"Both." Angel surprised himself by interrupting, earning a glare from Spike and a slight smile from Kat. John paid no attention, continuing his tirade.   
  


"We hold your life in our hands, and you evade our questions and mock us. We've no need of two vampires to interrogate, we only need one. Perhaps if we kill your friend you will be more forthcoming?" Kat's smile widened at that and she shook her head faintly. John glanced questioningly at her and she merely waved a hand toward the two vampires, waiting.   
  


Spike grinned. "Well, probably not. In fact, definitely not. But why don't you kill him and we'll find out? I might be wrong, I'm a fairly unpredictable chap."   
  


Kat laughed aloud. John turned to her, shock warring with irritation in his expression. "These creatures amuse you? When they have such intimate knowledge of you and refuse to share, still you laugh?"   
  


Spike spoke up. "It's not all that intimate. Not that I didn't try."   
  


Katerina raised an eyebrow at that, but it was John she spoke to. "I take amusement where it offers, John. They may be soulless lechers, and liars to boot, but they're still fairly amusing." She glanced toward the two. "Or at least, one of them is."   
  


John rose, indignation in his expression. "You of all people cannot afford to be so frivolous, or take the threat they pose lightly. They appeared almost within the boundaries of our camp, and possess knowledge of you that no one else is privy to. What they know, the Council may well know. And -"   
  


"Enough!" Katerina's voice thundered out, surprising John, who went pale and silent, wariness returning to his gaze. She leapt nimbly down from the table, standing before him, her back to the vampires. "You say nothing I do not know. I take nothing lightly, they will be questioned. Fetch the humans from my tent. If Catherine or one of the others is not yet ready to perform the spell, at least their pets can be Read. It may give us some answers." Her silver gaze stared unblinking at the young man. "Do not presume to tell me my business, John. You may be Senior, behind Nicholas, but both of you are infants in my eyes. I began this war long before your birth, and may well continue it long after your bones turn to ash. It is your advice I seek, not your approval, and assuredly not your orders."   
  


He nodded. "Forgive my presumption, Twilight. I meant no offense. I will bring the humans." He left hurriedly, his formerly confident movements now hurried and awkward.   
  


Spike shook his head. "Not nice to yell at the hired help. Best be sure he gets a good Christmas bonus this year."   
  


Kat whirled to face him. "You are one who does not know how to stop when they are ahead, aren't you?"   
  


Angel nodded. "I guarantee if you stake him, his mouth will be the last thing to dust. And it will talk till the last second."   
  


She smiled. "Unlike you - who holds your tongue unless needed, correct? Yet it was he who spoke, saving both of you from death. Why is that? Does he know things that you do not? Or is he simply a quicker liar than you?"   
  


"There are some things he knows that I don't, and some I know that he has no idea about. We've had . . . different experiences." Angel hesitated. "I think maybe he knew you better, where we came from."   
  


She snorted. "I have never met him."   
  


Spike smiled. "You will luv. Give it time."   
  


Katerina arched a dark eyebrow upward, but was halted before she could respond. The tent flap opened and a new man entered. Both vampires studied him as Katerina turned to greet him. The newcomer instantly frowned. "You give unbound vampires your back. You grow careless, Twilight." The words were tinged with edged humor, despite the frown he wore.   
  


She shrugged carelessly. "The effects of old age, perhaps." His frown faded, replaced by a slight smile as he watched her pull herself back onto the table. He moved further into the tent. Angel studied him more closely as he stepped away from the glare of the entrance. He was tall and well built, though not heavily muscled. Intelligent green eyes were clouded with serious concerns, though the faint laugh lines at their edges proved that he had not always been so somber. Katerina's voice drew his attention back to her. "No one watches us, Nicholas. You can call me by my name here." There was a faint wistfulness in her voice, as if she longed to hear her name more often.   
  


Nicholas studied the vampires for a moment before answering. "It is best to not give them any information, even a fact so trivial as that."   
  


She laughed, but there was a strained edge to the sound. "You'll not be telling them anything they do not already know. The pale-haired one already called me by my name."   
  


The man nodded tersely. "Fine, Katerina then. John went in search of the humans brought to camp with these, I passed him on the way. Catherine will come when she has dressed."   
  


Angel started slightly as a sharp elbow hit him in the side. He turned to glare at Spike, but the younger vampire ignored the venom in his grandsire's gaze and merely nodded sharply toward Nicholas. The man had sank down onto a stool and was watching them silently. Spike stared back, and there was an odd look in his eyes. Angel glanced between the two of them, then turned to study Nicholas in greater detail. The man wasn't terribly interesting. He was moderately good looking, fairly strong, obviously intelligent. He held no aura of great power- though there was some there. But Spike was staring at him with a look that was almost recognition. Angel spared the man a final glance as Nicholas looked away, his eyes shifting to Katerina as he asked her some question. Suddenly Angel sucked in his breath. He saw it now. It was on the tip of his tongue, the edge of his mind. The man was suddenly maddeningly familiar, though he was certain he'd never seen him before.   
  


Katerina sighed faintly. "The vampires must be spelled to learn their truths, but the humans you may Read. Is Catherine prepared to cast such a tasking spell twice, so soon after last night's failure?"   
  


Nicholas shook his head, anger in his face. "No, neither she nor any of the others is capable of it this day. But she insists she can do it once, and will take care of the other tomorrow." Resentment entered his voice. "And it was not a failure, not completely. We learned-"   
  


"Nothing of any use. We suspected the barrier was there, conformation at such a price was not needed, and should not have been sought." Katerina interrupted. "The casters meant well but it was beyond their abilities and gained us nothing save magic workers too exhausted to serve, and one who sleeps and does not wake."   
  


His jaw was set, tension in his face. "We took a chance. Had it worked, the rewards would have far outweighed the risks."   
  


"But it did not, and now the youngest of our casters lies at death's door with little hope of awakening. And you and Catherine hide him away, too afraid to face the condemnation of the army when they find out what has happened." She shook her head. "It is cowardice that holds your tongue."   
  


"It is not cowardice, it is prudence! He may awake at any moment, and prove our worries needless! Why panic the camp when we are not yet certain he is anything but asleep?" His raised voice was filled with anger.   
  


Her quiet response held nothing, was kept quietly neutral. "What sense you of his thoughts then, Nicholas? If he sleeps, can you not see his dreams?" The man fell silent, and Katerina nodded. "He may awaken, yes. But it is not a normal sleep he dwells in either. Rumors ran rife through camp last night when I returned, most of them worse than what actually happened. They deserve to know the truth. If nothing else, it will quiet the gossips."   
  


His shoulders slumped. "I will see to it at supper tonight." Both he and Kat turned to face the entrance as John reentered, Wesley and Tara with him. Their armed escort departed at a dismissive wave from Nicholas. Angel examined them closely. They looked no different than they had last time he saw them, though he thought he saw faint tearstains on Tara's cheeks. Angel nodded toward them. Wesley returned the gesture, raising his eyebrows at their untied status. Angel shrugged in response, his gaze moving back to Tara. The girl paid him no attention. Her eyes were large and fixed on Nicholas in fascinated worry.   
  


Nicholas returned the look, his eyes narrowing. Suddenly the slight power in him swelled, and Angel realized what he was. A Reader, and he was reading Tara. The power faded after a moment, and he shook his head faintly, eyebrows pulled into a deep furrow, green eyes shaded. He turned to Kat, who was watching him with a suddenly wary gaze. Tara's gaze didn't leave Nicholas' face. In a moment, recognition flooded her widened eyes. "Xander?"   
  


Nicholas spun to face her, shaking his head violently. And it clicked together in Angel's head. At his side he heard Spike swear. "Bollocks, as if one lifetime wasn't enough for that sodding boy."   
  


It clicked then, the familiarity of the man. In a lifetime hundreds of years from now, this man would be Alexander Harris. They were like Buffy and Katerina, shades and pieces of one another, different enough to be separate people, similar enough to be eerie. Angel shook his head, and smiled at Tara. Then his gaze slid past her to Wesley. "Looks like it isn't just Slayers who get recycled."   
  
  
  


Nicholas had sank back onto a stool. Katerina had moved instinctively between the vampires and the humans in the room, her back to the table, her worried gaze only occasionally moving from Nicholas' pale face to Angel and Spike. The man ran a hand over his forehead and sighed. "Katerina . . . . I think they may be telling the truth." By the time he raised his head to look at her the concern was gone from her eyes.   
  


"All this from a girl-child who may well be under enchantment? A five second glance into her mind and you're convinced?" There was an edge of resentment in John's voice as he spoke.   
  


Nicholas shot him an irritated look. "I said they 'may' not be lying John. I didn't say I was certain. There is an honesty in that girl's mind. And she believes that she knows not only Katerina, but me as well. Only I am not as I am now. I am some boy she has in her mind."   
  


"Wonderful. We spend time listening to the Council's planted fairy stories while they plot to attack us. They know our spell casters are weakened now, it is an opportune time for them to attack -"   
  


"You've not left this camp in weeks John. I've spent the last week in travel. The Council's army has not gathered. If they strike, it will be from a distance with magic, and we cannot guard against that just now. It does no good to worry about what cannot be helped any longer. I'm sure Leonie lingers outside the tent. Send her to gather another Reader, it does not matter which one. The boy will do as well as the man. Nicholas and he will read the humans. When Catherine comes she will learn the truths the vampires have to offer. Whether they lie or tell the truth, we will know their purpose, and from there decide on our actions." Katerina's voice was cool and unemotional, a thoughtful frown on her face.   
  


John hastened to obey, pulling the tent flap open and calling for Leonie, who appeared promptly enough to prove Katerina's theory about her true. In moments she was gone, and John had returned. Katerina's eyes sought Tara. "Well girl? Nicholas believes you tell the truth; or at least the truth as you know it. Who is he then, in your mind?"   
  


"He-he's a f-friend of mi-of ours. H-his n-name is X-Xander." Tara's stutter was horribly apparent, and her eyes were downcast, her blonde hair hiding her face. Spike made a snorting sound of disgust at her shyness. She hadn't been like that since Buffy and Red sent her family packing. She dared a glance at him and he nodded encouragingly at her. She smiled faintly and raised her head slightly, her eyes on Nicholas. "He's a Reader too. I-in our time."   
  


Nicholas frowned, but was saved a reply as the tent flap opened again. The boy, Sean, stepped through first, Leonie with him until John shooed her back out. He stood awkwardly in the doorway until a slim, pale hand fell on his shoulder and pushed him gently further inside the tent. A tall young woman entered behind him. She was dressed in a long green skirt and a simple top, both of a better quality than any of the clothing Angel had seen so far. Long blonde hair was pulled away from her face in a simple braid. She smiled faintly with pale pink lips. "It grows crowded here." Her voice was soft and oddly deep. She nodded toward Spike and Angel after a moment. "This is them?"   
  


"You look well, Catherine. Perhaps last night was not so taxing for you as it was for others?" Katerina's voice drew Angel's eyes instantly. There was a hard thread of steel in her tone, and the room suddenly felt tense. Kat smiled a cold smile at the girl. "We await your presence- as you did not await mine. Yes, those are the vampires we need tested. Cast on either, both have been convincing in their own way." Accusation in her tone as well as something that may have been well-hidden hurt and betrayal.   
  


The girl - Catherine - paled, shifting closer to where John and Nicholas, who had risen at her entrance, stood. "Twilight, I meant no harm. You were away and -"   
  


"Later." Katerina interrupted with a harsh word. "There will be time for explanations later. Now they will change nothing. Do your task."   
  


Nicholas glared at her and looked as if he would argue, but Catherine laid a long-fingered hand on his shoulder, shaking her head faintly. "Of course." She said simply, a genuine, if somewhat tentative, smile on her lips.   
  


She turned to face them and Angel pulled his attention away from Katerina to her. Her smile faded as she appraised them. Her eyes met each of theirs in turn, and Angel was suddenly rocked by a sense of deep shock and dismay. The ice blue color was wrong, the expression was wrong, the body was wrong- but he knew those eyes. Beside him, Spike knew as well. The girl looked at him quizzically, one pale hand pleating the folds of her long skirt in an elegant - and familiar - gesture. Spike spoke the name in both of their minds before Angel could. "Drusilla." He said it simply and with a cold acceptance Angel had not yet managed. She shook her head faintly at that, her eyes moving over her shoulder to twine with Nicholas' gaze for a moment before moving back to the vampires.   
  


Wesley's dark eyes went wide at Spike's emotionless utterance. He moved closer to the woman, studying her with a skeptical gaze. "This is Drusilla?" His eyes moved toward Angel.   
  


Angel nodded wordlessly. Catherine shook her head, confusion in her eyes. "I am Catherine Withington of Larkshire Manor. I know no one called Drusilla."   
  


Nicholas said nothing, his green eyes were fixed on Wesley now, a thoughtful expression on his face. The boy's face was screwed up into a tight ball, his narrowed gaze fixed on Wesley as well, great concentration in his expression. Suddenly his face relaxed. "He knows 'er! He's from da future, an' she's a vampire in 'is time, with dark 'air. She 'as da visions, like Catherine!" The light, lilting accent had grown heavier in the boy's excitement.   
  


Nicholas nodded. "Or so the man believes. The girl knows little of this Drusilla." He smiled faintly. "And what little she knows of her, she seems to dislike, from what I can discern. Drusilla seems to have treated a friend of hers rather shabbily, leaving him for . . ." He frowned slightly as he glanced at a suddenly blushing Tara. "For a demon? With antlers?" He shook his head, obviously not understanding. "At any rate, she finds her disloyalty to her friend, Spike, disagreeable."   
  


Katerina laughed softly, drawing curious glances from the people of her time, her silver eyes glancing toward Spike. Spike merely smiled rather fondly at Tara. "Felt badly for me, did you luv?"   
  


She nodded almost guiltily. "It se-seemed she was kinda mean about it. F-from what Willow and B-Buffy said, anyway." She smiled faintly.   
  


He looked hopeful. "Buffy feel that way too?" Angel rolled his eyes disgustedly.   
  


Tara's smile evaporated, sadness suddenly hovering in her eyes. "No. She didn't."   
  


Angel turned to see Nicholas' disconcertingly sharp gaze fixed on Tara, his eyes unreadable. It was several long moments before he turned to Katerina. John, Catherine, and Sean were talking animatedly, Katerina hovering at the edge of the conversation, aware of it but not participating. Wesley, Angel noted, was avidly eavesdropping.   
  


Nicholas laid a hand on Kat's shoulder and she turned to meet his eyes. When he spoke, his soft words were for her alone, though the inhuman ears of Spike and Angel heard them clearly as well. "They speak truth Katerina, and bring matters of great peril and sorrow with them. Never have I guided you wrongly in such things. The spell must be cast to satisfy the rest of them, but for now be sure in the knowledge that all their words are true." His voice lowered still further. "Such things they have in their minds . . . horrors they've seen . . . images of a Catherine and myself that do not yet exist, but are still undeniably us- though vastly altered." His gaze moved to Catherine, lingering on her slim back as she spoke in hushed tones with John. "She is a monster to them. The Catherine they know would end the world without a single regret."   
  


"They know shades of you. Me they greeted by name - hailed as a friend even. Never again would I ally myself with a vampire . . . yet I heard the truth in the words. I trust you, and believed they were genuine even before you spoke, though I did not wish to." Katerina fell silent, her gaze fixed on the table without seeing it. "From how many years in the future do they hail, Nicholas?"   
  


He hesitated, eyes moving toward Wesley. "They are uncertain of the precise number of years. But several centuries have passed, of that they seem certain."   
  


She sighed, and there was an aura of hopelessness in it. "Hundreds of years from now, and still I live on." Her eyes moved over his face, their silver centers shadowed. "I will watch you die." Her voice was nearly a whisper. His eyes darkened, concern, sympathy, and some darker emotion clear in them. He touched her softly on her shoulder, leaning in to say something. She pulled quickly away, her gaze moving away from him to take in the others from her time. "All of you." The pained whisper was gone, in its place was emotionless distance.   
  


Nicholas sat back up, eyes expressionless again. Angel saw Catherine lay a soft hand on the man's arm, and realized that she had not been as oblivious to Nicholas and Katerina's private conversation as he had thought. Nicholas stood, clenching Catherine's hand in his own and watching as Katerina pulled two stools from the table. She pushed them toward Tara and Wesley. "Sit. This may well be a lengthy process."   
  


Wesley hesitated, then accepted, placing the stool for Tara before sinking into his own. Kat returned to her perch on the table as the others found seats as well. Finally only Catherine remained standing. She sent a questioning gaze toward Katerina, who nodded slightly. "Go on. We will learn the truth of their minds." She smiled faintly at some joke only she understood.   
  


"Tw-Twilight." Sean's hesitant voice came from the quiet stool he'd found in the corner. He flushed when Kat's attention turned to him, his accent more pronounced in his shyness. "I'm sorry . . . bu-but Nich'las an' me. We saw that they believe tha' lies in their mind. Will the spell work properly if they are tellin' the truth as they believe it? If the Council made 'em ta think it's all real, than they'd not be lyin'."   
  


Kat shook her head slightly, smiling at the boy. John frowned and shook his head as well. "The spell doesn't work that way Sean. As you should know from your studies."   
  


Katerina sent John an irritated glance. "It was a good thought, Sean. This spell works differently from most truth spells, which is one of the reasons it remains potent when used on vampires. It draws forth the truths a person has been exposed to. It does not matter if they believe them or not, it pulls the true experience forth and makes it known, usually in greater detail than the person remembers, even when they are speaking truth."   
  


Sean nodded in understanding. Catherine smiled at him as well before turning back to the vampires. She spoke to them in the same soft, polite voice she used with everyone else. Angel found that odd. To her, they were mad vampires possibly sent by the Council. Why would she afford them such courtesies? "The spell required is difficult and requires a great deal of energy. I am not at my best, and cannot perform it on each of you. I leave the choice of which one is to go up to you." She smiled apologetically. "It is not an honor, I will warn you. It will be painful for you."   
  


"In that case, let Angel here go. He's a bit of a masochist anyway. Might even enjoy it." Angel sighed and nodded when Catherine turned a questioning gaze toward him. He'd expected that from Spike. It was good to know he could still predict SOME of the younger vampire's more annoying tendencies.   
  


Catherine nodded, becoming suddenly more businesslike. "Alright then. It will be a few minutes before the pain sets in. Be careful to speak one at a time, and ask only questions you wish to hear the answers to. He will answer anything you ask once the spell begins, no matter who asks. It is best if only one or two do the asking though, it is less confusing that way." She directed the last toward Katerina and Nicholas with an endearing lack of subtlety.   
  


Katerina nodded in answer, Nicholas smiling faintly and agreeing as well. John looked less pleased, but gave grudging acquiescence as well. Sean said nothing, obviously just pleased that he was being allowed to remain. Angel smiled faintly. He suspected half of the boy's excitement came from the fact that Leonie would be hugely jealous.   
  


After gently removing her hand from Nicholas' grip, Catherine pulled another stool from the table and placed it directly in front of Angel. She sat daintily on it and offered him her hand. He took it after a hesitant moment. She smiled in reassurance, then her oddly light-colored eyes closed. Angel studied her as she bit her lip, deep in concentration. She was younger than Nicholas and John, though older than Sean. She looked near the same age as Tara, perhaps a bit younger. There was a timelessness about her though, an ageless innocence that he recognized, though beneath it he could see a deep weariness.   
  


Drusilla had possessed that odd, youthful quality. Time seemed to have little effect on her, even before he'd turned her. Despite the sorrow he'd heaped on her, despite the insanity that turned her mind to a maze, despite all that and more she'd maintained that childlike purity until the moment he made her a demon. Then the innocence had twisted, turned vile and grasping. But still there had been traces of it in her. She'd retained that odd ability that children have to observe everything with wide, ever hopeful, and wondering eyes.   
  


Drusilla had seen everything- few people knew that about her. Darla, even, had never understood it. She had thought Dru simple-minded. Spike had known, he and Angel may well have been the only ones. Beneath the visions and the madness, Drusilla had been sharply observant and intelligent, maybe even brilliant. Her mind didn't work the way normal people did, and they often mistook insanity for stupidity. It was usually their last mistake. Dru had been- was- anything but stupid. She just didn't use logic the way the rest of the world did.   
  


This girl had that. Already he sensed it. Sean had said she had visions, but unlike Drusilla she did not seem to live in fear of them. There had always been that darkness in Dru, that fear of what she was and of what God's retribution would be. He'd fed on that, created it to be a demon within her mind long before he'd made her into a true demon. Catherine seemed to have none of that fear. He sensed a contentment in her that was odd to him. She should not smell so happy with her life when she sat in the middle of a war torn world. There was sadness in her, a scent of failure and regret that he suspected came from the spell Katerina had spoken of earlier; but she was not Drusilla. She was what Drusilla might have been, if things had been different. He found himself wondering who Dru would have become if he'd never turned her. Most of all, he wondered what Spike thought of Catherine.   
  


His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when a gripping, gnawing pain seized his chest and burned its way up his throat and to his mouth. His mind went blank save for a desperate desire to halt the pain. A voice he would have recognized, had he been capable of thinking, spoke then. "What is your name?"   
  


"Angel." The answer gave him brief relief from the pain, but it returned as soon as the word left his mouth.   
  


The voice again. "Where do you come from?"   
  


"Los Angeles, California."   
  


The voice was irritated now. "I've never heard of such a place." There was no question, so he could not reply, and the agony continued.   
  


A new voice spoke, another he thought he should have recognized. "It has not been discovered yet. Years from now another continent will be colonized, eventually becoming a free country. It will -" 

"Enough. Such questions get us nowhere. What year was it where you came from, Angel?"   
  


"2000."   
  


Silence. "Even I had not imagined such a length of time." The first voice again, quieter now. "The year is now 1322, you should all perhaps know. Now, why are you here?"   
  


"To help you win this war."   
  


"Why were you sent to help us?"   
  


"Because if this war is lost, then the world we come from ceases to be. Everything will change, and the world will be created again by the enemies of Order."   
  


"Enough. He is an ally, the pain is unnecessary. We've learned he speaks truth, and that he has no reason to lie. Cease, Catherine." The pain stopped, and a warm hand was pulled from his own limp grasp. Angel blinked as awareness returned to him. He turned slightly to face Katerina. Her face was set in an expression of deep determination, mingled with an odd trepidation he found unsettling. Her silver eyes met his and there was iron in her voice. "Start from the beginning, tell us everything we need to know."   
  


Angel looked away and traded glances with Spike, Tara, and Wesley. Uncertainty was in all their faces. There was so much to tell, none of them knew where to begin. It was Wesley who began finally, his voice hesitant at first, but growing steadily more confident. His audience listened in tense, stunned silence as the story began to take shape before them. "Long after the Watcher Wars had ended, in our time, there was another Chosen Slayer named Buffy Summers. . ."   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


Buffy frowned in disapproval as she surveyed the field in front of her. "You expect to win a war with them? These are little girls!"   
  


The demon at her side shook his head, deep voice rumbling up from his chest. "They are Slayers, as you were. They will serve. And they are not the only soldiers that serve us. We've many uncalled warriors, mercenaries for hire mostly, as well as the magic wielders amongst the Watchers."   
  


She snorted. "Wonderful. You give me a handful of kids and their English grandfathers and send me out to fight."   
  


Stephan frowned. "You deliberately downplay our resources. We've a much greater force than Twilight has assembled."   
  


"I know way better than you what Kat's got cooking." She sent him a quelling glance. "But her people give a damn about the stuff they're fighting for. These guys are just fighting on orders. Except for the Watchers, who are fighting to protect their greedy, selfish, pointless little lifestyles. People fight better when they care about the results. Haven't you seen Braveheart?" She glanced at Stephan, then shook her head disgustedly. "No, guess you haven't. More of a When Harry Met Sally kinda guy, aren't you?" She ignored his look of confused anger. "So last night they tried to magic their way in, right?"   
  


He nodded his horned head, satisfaction in his expression. "I wouldn't have expected Twilight to be so careless with her weak little casters. They sent an out of body spy - a fairly complex spell. I suspect only one or two of her people were truly capable of casting it, the rest must just have been pulled along. Our wards repelled them, causing a backlash. With any luck we've weakened Twilight herself, as it's likely she lent even her weak magical gift to the effort."   
  


Buffy shook her head. "Sorry Charlie. Kat didn't even know. They went over her helmet with this one. It was Catherine's idea, and Nicholas gave permission. Twilight's not at all happy about it, trust me."   
  


He grunted in disappointment. "Catherine is a mistake this Council will not soon forgive. Her father allowed her to learn the use of her meager powers, and she betrayed him, and the Council, and taught her knowledge to others. But it does not matter. Tonight our casters, with my aid, will send a series of magical attacks. They maintain a barrier as well, but with the casters down it will be weakened, and we will be able to do enough damage to be worthwhile. You will prepare the armies and lead them out tonight. By tomorrow you will reach their camp, if you ride hard. Our forces will be weary from the journey, but theirs will be more so from the failure of their attack followed by the success of ours."   
  


"Don't think so." Buffy's voice was clipped, her eyes distant as she searched within her own mind.   
  


"What?" Stephan's voice was angry, the bestial tone of it more noticeable.   
  


"You tried that last time. Kat's going to jump the camp and let the magic users channel the energy of the Slayers to move them somewhere else and mask their presence for a while. By the time you find the new camp, their defense knows you're coming and it's just another battle. Losses on both sides and nothing gained for either."   
  


He scowled. "But you know the location of their camp, even when she moves it."   
  


"See, there might be a problem there." Buffy's voice was suddenly filled with amusement. "I have a sneaking suspicion that there may have been stowaways on the top of the phone booth for my little journey through time."   
  


His scowl grew deeper. "I never have any idea what you speak of."   
  


She laughed. "Funny, my old Watcher used to say almost the same thing."   
  


"You think that someone else came back in time with you, yes? Yet we saw no one else, save the Oracle, when you arrived."   
  


Buffy stilled and leaned back against the low stone wall that surrounded the training field. Her eyes moved slowly from girl to girl, watching as young woman - some of them younger than Dawn had been - trained with one another and with their Watchers. Beyond them she saw another, more wooded field dotted with tents and campfires. She surveyed them for a moment, that was where the Watcher's mercenaries were camped. "You don't allow the Slayers to train with the hired help, huh?"   
  


Stephan shook his horned head, gold eyes still furious. "The Slayers are not allowed outside influences. The loyalties of men are not their concern. Distractions will only deter them from their training."   
  


She frowned. "Sometimes distractions from work make the work a little easier when it's time to go back to it. It's easy for a Slayer to die when all they have is their job."   
  


He growled faintly and glared at her, a hint of hatred in his golden gaze. "I do not pretend to understand the reasons behind your existence. You are an unholy creature who should delight in the death of a Slayer, yet you defend them and act as if the task we demand of you is beneath you and distasteful. I care not your reasons for agreeing and cannot fathom the mind of a beast such as you, but remember that you are to aid us. You are to protect our methods and the integrity of the Council as we have created it to be. Vampire, Slayer, or woman - whichever demon rules your being, I do not care. You will do as you are supposed to do, and leave the training of the Slayers to us."   
  


She said nothing throughout his tirade, not even sparing him a glance. When he finally finished, she turned to him. There was ice and iron in her green gaze. "When you die the second time, it's slow and painful. Katerina watches and no one steps in to make it quick. Slayer after Slayer they send after your demon ass, and you cut them to ribbons with claws, and magic, and the powers you've harnessed from that body's former occupant. When it's all over it's a child who kills you - because you're stupid, arrogant, and blind. Bodies will lay on the ground all around you, dying in silent agony. But you'll wail and cry and curse like a baby." She gestured vaguely toward the training fields, a slight smile on her face. "If they hadn't cheated and sent me back, you would have lost this war. You would have been defeated. The whole world would have seen how weak and pathetic you really are. They had to send back a vampire, Slayer, AND woman to help you do what you couldn't manage on your own." The smile turned to a cold grin. "I watched you die. I know which little button can bring Achilles tumbling straight on down. I can win this war without you. Push me, and I'll prove it - to hell with what the Oracles said."   
  


They stared at one another, each on the verge of attacking, loathing shining in their disparate gazes. Finally Stephan looked away. When he spoke again, his voice was neutral. "You believe someone else from your time is here?"   
  


She smiled again, a hint of triumph in her eyes. "I had good friends, back home. Loyal to a fault, really. I'm guessing they jumped in after me, at least one or two of them. And I'm guessing that the little girl who opened the portal let them through."   
  


He frowned. "The Oracle assured me that Prisca, The Guardian, was in her debt and would aid her. Why would you suspect that she had betrayed us?"   
  


"There is no us. There's you, and then there's me, your unhappy accessory. And back in my time she had a helpful little chat with another Slayer. My guess is that girl, Prisca, is playing for both sides. She probably brought them through somewhere else. They may already be with Katerina by now."   
  


"If they are, then they will have told her of our plans, and of your presence. So Twilight will know to not use her first plans, as you would know of them. But can you not anticipate her second choices?"   
  


She frowned. "There's a whole lot of time and space between Kat and me. Our minds don't work the same way, and it isn't as easy as you seem to think for me to try to think like her." She was silent a moment. "Tonight, I will work with the casters. I remember the spells Katerina knew, but I have zip magical talent of my own. But I can sit in and they can tune me in, right? Weave me into their spell?" He nodded. "I'll try to direct them. We won't attack. All we're going to do is find out if my stowaways are real. If they are, then we're going to have to rework our plans a little. If she knows about me . . . it could gum up the works." She smiled at him. "Relay my decision to the Watchers. I'm going to train with the Slayers until they're ready for me." She purposely shifted her voice to sound more like Katerina for her final command. She saw the fury that raised in him, though he merely nodded and turned back toward the fortress.   
  


Buffy watched him go, then turned back to the Slayers. He'd had little awareness of them, but she was not so unobservant. She'd seen the way they looked at him, and at her. They loathed following the orders of a demon and a vampire, it went against every one of their instincts. They obeyed because they were conditioned to do so, but she saw their resentment.   
  


She stepped onto the field and picked up a quarterstaff. She would give them a chance to see what she could do. If her status didn't impress them, maybe her abilities would. Or at least it might prove to them that she would be a very bad enemy, should they decide to disobey. She walked to two of the oldest and waited for them to end their spar, aware that nearly every eye was trained on her. When they finally finished she smiled at the winner. "I need some exercise. Want to help me out? Give me a light workout?" She saw the flash of anger in the dark haired Slayer's eyes as she nodded. Buffy smiled and stretched for a moment as the activity in the rest of the field slowly died away. One by one the other Slayers and their Watchers trickled over to stand in a circle around them. Her smile turned to a grin. She always did her best work with an audience watching.   
  


She slipped into a defensive position and waited, letting the other girl make the first move. She didn't have to wait long, the other Slayer launched into an immediate aggressive move. Buffy evaded easily and whirled around to deliver a sound blow before the other girl could even turn to face her. She saw shock and sudden fear in her opponent's eyes, and saw the emotions reflected in the eyes of those around them. She hadn't been aiming to make them afraid- just respectful- but she shrugged to herself and let her arrogant grin widen. Fear, respect - didn't matter which. Worked both ways. 

______________________________________________________________________________   
  


Author's Note: Now here's where I ask YOU for a favor. This is not a "if you don't do this, I won't finish the story" scenario. It's merely a favor and if no one does it, that's perfectly fine. If either of these requests interests you, and you have a bit of extra time on your hands, than by all means go ahead and send them to me!! If not, that's okay.   
  


Request #1- When I first began Twilight, it started as a writing project for my creative writing class, where we were told to insert a new character into an established creation as a writing exercise. I never had any intention of finishing it back then. However several Buffy-fanatic friends insisted that I do so. I then posted what I had on fanfiction.net, and had even more incentive!! Hence the plot of Twilight is a little forced and meandering at times, while when I imagined Female, it was outlined from the beginning. Hopefully, it benefits from the clearer outline. In time, I hope to go back and rework Twilight to eliminate errors, and make it jive better with its sequel. But it was the first long work I've EVER finished, and I'm proud of it, boo-boos and all.   
  


Now we get to the request part. As a gift to those friends who first encouraged me, I'll be putting the two stories together in a book when Female is completed. I could simply use Buffy/Angel cast shots for the cover, but I'd like something more art-work like. Sooo . . . if there are any artists out there who'd like to take a shot at doing a cover illustration for me, I would be eternally grateful. We could work out some kind of trade maybe? I don't have much to offer, (Least of all money. I'm highly poor.) but maybe I could do something else for you? Write a request, or give you a cameo on one of the incidental characters I've yet to name? I dunno. But I'll think of something. Any art medium is fine, computer, pencil, whatever. Any scene that struck you from either Female or Twilight, or a character portrait, (doesn't have to be one of my original characters.) or anything else you can think of! I'm completely unartistic when it comes to anything that doesn't involve words, so whatever you do is GUARANTEED to be better than what I could come up with. Any ideas, questions, or whatnot you have feel free to email to me at adena@atlantic.net   
  


Request #2- The second request is for the same book I'm putting together, but is a bit easier. As no famous critics have done reviews to put on the back cover, I decided to include quotes from the stories themselves on the back of the book. Problem is, I'm too close to the work to pick out the best little bits. (Hopefully there's at least a few!!) So anyone who has a favorite line or little quote from Female or Twilight, send 'em to me, please! I'll be VERY grateful.   
  


Okay, that's it. Anyone who read this far, thank you VERY much. As I said, if I get no response that's fine, I'll still finish the story and will do the quotes myself and find some nice cast shots for the cover. No big deal. I just thought it'd be nicer this way. Thanks again, and look for the next chapter in a few weeks, hopefully! 


	13. In All The World

Author's Note: Geez this took forever, didn't it? Thanks to those of you who sent me quotes, I appreciate it! As always, reviews and emails are welcome and appreciated. The next part is half done, and will be added as soon as possible. Thanks!   
  
  
  
Part Twelve: 

In All the World   
  
  
  
"There was never a genius without a tincture of madness." -- Aristotle   
  
  
  
  
  


"It's odd, isn't it? The way the sun burns people like me, as if He can't stand the sight of us, and wants to burn us all away to ashes." The slim figure stood in the window, body tucked into the shade of a long, sweeping curtain. She pushed her hand slowly into the sunlight, watched with an odd, wondering expression as it began to smoke and char. She pulled it back to her side after a moment. "I wonder why He hates us so, sometimes. Why He only lets us come out when He's gone to bed beneath the sea. I wonder why He favors the bleeding, screaming masses over us, who could live long enough to know Him so much better. I cry and wonder why no one favors people like me. And then I remember - we're not people at all. And I think maybe He doesn't hate us, maybe He's protecting us. Maybe if we saw one another in daylight, we would see through the pulse of the blood, and through the fear and beauty of the kill to what lies beneath. We would see that all we are is death. And no one, not even us, wants to see death outside of night's veil."   
  


She smiled and turned away from the window, dark eyes filled with a dreamy contentment. "It's not the kill that draws us you know. To give death is nothing to us. Fun, sometimes - people do make such wonderful noises when you hurt them - but still, nothing really. It's the life that draws us. We pull it from you, down into our throats and tummies. And for just a moment, we're alive - like we used to be, only better - more beautiful, more powerful, more terrible. And then it fades, and we're hungry and dead again." She hummed softly, a simple childish tune for a moment, absorbed in some distant thought. "I'd never thought about it much you know. But it's right that we fear the sun. It's not the burning we fear, it's the seeing. The clarity that comes with sunlight." She turned to the room's other occupant and giggled softly. "Still, it's a shame. A girl always looks her best in natural light, doesn't she? Grandmummy and I always had to make do with candlelight and electricity. I preferred the candles, really. Softened the face. Grandmummy looked lovely in the light of a candle. Like a little girl gone wrong."   
  


The dark haired figured moved forward to stand before the blonde woman on the sofa. The woman stared up at her with wide, oddly accepting eyes. The dark haired creature smiled again. "You'd look lovely in candlelight too, mother. All pretty sunshine head and grass green eyes." She reached out a long fingered hand and gently swept it along the woman's head. "The Slayer has your eyes, same green grass, same sun hair. There are different secrets though, hidden in your eyes and heads." The pale face tilted, appraised her with an expression of puzzled melancholy.   
  


Joyce Summers pulled her gaze away from the vampire's. For the hundredth time, she cursed herself for being stupid enough to open the door and invite her in. She never did that, not since Buffy had warned her, after the near disaster with Spike that day . . . well, and Dracula. But that hadn't been her fault. But the pretty young Englishwoman had seemed sincerely kind and she'd looked into her eyes and just . . . asked her in. She thanked God that Dawn had slept over at Melinda's last night. She'd sat here all night, while the vampire stared unseeingly out the window. Her slightest movement had drawn attention, making escape impossible. She steeled herself, taking a deep breath and spoke with a defiance she didn't quite feel. "My daughter is -"   
  


"Far away, mother. Farther than stars and suns and mothers can imagine. Farther than love can reach." She smiled. "Do you know my name, mother? I know yours. I've seen secrets that hide in you, dark and terrible things that whispered to me before it all went silent and I was lost. Would you like to hear them?"   
  


Joyce shook her head emphatically. "No. I wouldn't. And no, I don't know your name. So leave, and I won't tell Buffy, and she won't turn you into dust."   
  


She laughed, rich and throaty. "You know my name. You've heard it on the Slayer's lips. I know. I saw her tell you once, while I slept. She wore pink and sat beside you beneath a window, and spoke of immortal lovers who sought to eat her heart."   
  


Joyce shook her head. "I don't-I never-"   
  


"Drusilla. I am Drusilla." She spoke her own name slowly, tasting the word. She smiled sadly again and shrugged. "Before I was Drusilla I had another name. You don't know that one, sometimes, neither do I. It's best forgotten I think, such sad memories." Drusilla fixed her gaze on Joyce and raised both hands, gripping the woman's blonde head gently, but firmly. "Shall I tell you what I remember?" There was a childlike eagerness in her tone, a little girl longing to share her secrets.   
  


Joyce tried to shake her head loose, but Drusilla's grip tightened and prevented it. "No. I don't want to hear that, either."   
  


The hands fell away and the vampire knelt suddenly, her gaze level with Joyce's, her gray skirts puddled around her. She ignored Joyce's answer. "I remember so much, sometimes. Other times I can hardly remember. Today - today I remember it all. I remember the man-that-wasn't-a-man, who followed and watched with eyes like sin. I remember how they all fell around me like bleeding doves." She swayed slightly, lost in images older than any living man's memory. Joyce tried to edge away, but a pale hand closed around her knee..   
  


Drusilla sighed deeply. The act seemed all the more sad for its sheer frivolity, the breath unnecessary in the dead woman's lungs. "My mother was last, you know. She was so lovely. Dark hair and eyes like the sky. Not my sky, not anymore, but the daytime, sunlit sky. She'd sing me to sleep when my eyes saw what wasn't there, and my head dreamed of things that hadn't yet happened. In the morning, she'd send me to pray and never tell Father of the evil in my head. She was wearing blue the day my Angel came for her. I sat in the corner and watched while she screamed and shook and bled. She screamed so loudly I couldn't hear him laugh; but, I watched his shoulders shake and quake, and saw the sin-eyes giggling. She died slowly, moaning and crying while her blood dried and he licked his fingers clean. He left me alone with her body. It got cold so quickly." The dark head tilted. "She looked lovely in blue."   
  


Joyce moaned softly as the hand on her knee tightened and the dark eyes locked with hers. "I saw so much, so many, many things. I never knew what would happen and what wouldn't. Not for sure. I saw it once though. I saw grass-green eyes closed on a metal bed and skin gone cold - like mine, but not. She was supposed to be here, I think, to cry and wail and hold the thing-made-flesh and promise that it would all get better." Tears welled in Drusilla's eyes. "My mummy died slowly. I saw it here, too. Mummies shouldn't suffer so. They should die wearing white with old skin and tired eyes full of time. They shouldn't die wearing blue while men-who-aren't-men laugh and lick their fingers clean." The free hand came up again, touched Joyce's head with a childlike affection that sent shivers up the woman's spine. "Death and darkness in your head, darkness and death in your daughter's eyes. I wonder if the one is because of the other, or back the other way."   
  


Drusilla rose and her face changed, pale skin turning ridged, fangs parting the lipsticked lips, yellow eyes still sad. Joyce whimpered, suddenly certain that Buffy would not be here this time. "Please." Fear gripped her at the sudden thought that Dawn could be home any minute.   
  


"Shush, shush." Drusilla wrapped her arms around the Slayer's mother and rocked her gently, lovingly. "Mummies mustn't cry. What would their babies think?" She let go, lifting Joyce's chin to force their gazes to meet again. "It's better this way, you see. Fate is cruel - he has no respect for mothers. You'll be happier this way, believe me. It's better to die quickly of the demon in your house, than slowly - inch by inch - from the one in your head." The vampire giggled quietly at some joke only she understood.   
  


Joyce shook her head and made a last desperate effort to pull away, to run out into the sunlight that would save her life. Pale hands stopped her, wrapped her in an embrace and rocked back and forth as Drusilla sang. "Run and catch, run and catch. The lamb is caught in the blackberry patch . . ." One of the arms fell away, and Joyce felt a sharp pain in her neck as Drusilla's head lowered to her throat. She struggled uselessly for a moment, then a strange lethargy overcame her. She went limp in the vampire's arms as she felt her life draining away. It was only a few moments before Joyce Summers slipped into the blackness of death.   
  


Drusilla raised her head. Gently she lowered the body to the floor. She knelt beside it, smoothing Joyce's blonde hair and pushing the eyelids gently closed. "It would have been better if she'd worn white. Yes, white, like the angels. But then the blood would show, so perhaps this is best after all." The lack of response didn't seem to bother her. She smiled, and suddenly there was an edge of wickedness to her expression. "I'll tell her you said goodbye, Mother." Softly she began to sing again. "Run and catch, run and catch . . ."   
  


The click and bang of the opening door stopped her song. A voice, young and eager and slightly hoarse from a long sleepless night of giggles, and phone calls, and conversations about boys, called out a greeting. Drusilla waited as the footsteps approached. "Mom? You'll never guess who Melinda made me call last night! She-" The footsteps halted as a young woman stepped into the living room, long brown hair swinging around her shoulders as she stopped, her eyes widening. "Who are-" The girl's smile faded as she took in the face of the intruder with its yellow eyes and ridges. "No-no. What - Mom!" Tears started to escape from the girl's eyes as the fixed on her mother's motionless body. She stepped forward to go to her, but stopped as Drusilla stood, her features flowing back into their human countenance. "Is she . . . did you . . ." Her voice faded away, unable to finish either sentence.   
  


Drusilla still smiled, the edge of wickedness fading to be replaced with a look of deep focus and certainty. "Don't worry. I could have made it last for days. I have, over and over again. But, I did it quickly. Mummies die nicely, with smiles and no pain in their eyes." She moved toward the girl. "Even if they aren't the mummies they think they are. Even if one who isn't a daughter hides in their home."   
  


"St-stay away from me. My sister will - oh God." Dawn backed away. "Mommy," she whimpered. "I'm sorry." She turned to run back out the door.   
  


Drusilla scowled and swept forward. "Little Key, better me than the Queen. Don't run into the sun where I cannot come." She giggled slightly. "I'm a poet." She reached for Dawn, but the young girl was faster than she'd expected. She ducked beneath the vampire's outstretched arms and darted away, flinging the door open and running through it into the bright sunlit day. Drusilla called to the running girl from the shadows beside the door. "I didn't come for her, you know. But, it's better this way, really. You'll thank me one day." She blinked, and smiled slowly. "Or maybe you won't . . . I didn't see far enough to tell for sure."   
  


Drusilla danced around the sunlight and closed the door with a soft laugh. "Run and hide little Key. I'll still find you first."   
  


****************************************************************************** 

There was nothing left to indicate that only moments before, seven more bodies had stood within the room. Faith could hear the breathing of those around her in the dense quiet of the office, harsh and hurried for all but one of them. That one caught her eye. The blue skinned woman stared back, and there was an utterly inhuman amusement in her gaze. "The replacement Slayer, just a step too slow, just a little to late. That is the story of your short life, is it not? A shame."   
  


Faith bridled at her words. "What do you think your doing? Where did they go? What's going on? And who the hell are you?"   
  


"So many questions when you haven't time to chat, little Slayer. It is all on your shoulders now, and you must go and stop Glory. You know what she wants, do you not? The Guardian played at a role outside her domain and told you, or so I was led to believe."   
  


Faith moved forward menacingly. "You're not answering my questions, and that's making me irritable. What Guardian? Where did you send Glory? What does she know about the Key?"   
  


The woman smiled. "Now that would be helping. Why ever would I want to do that?" The smile widened. "Though it would not do you any good, even if I did. It is a hopeless situation for you, little Slayer. You just don't know how you are going to lose yet."   
  


"You claimed you would help us not long ago. What in the hell are you playing at? Where is Buffy?" Giles' voice from behind her startled Faith into half spinning around. The Watcher sounded as bad as he looked. His voice was high with pain, but there was a fierceness to the tone, a fury that Faith had never heard before. He hobbled forward, Xander moving to stand beside him, eyes filled with the same betrayed fury she saw in Giles. The young man locked gazes with her for a moment, then turned his eyes to the woman Giles had spoken to. Giles continued, paying no attention to anyone else. "What game was it? To earn our trust and promise us aid, to make us think we could trust you?"   
  


The woman laughed, and the sound was chilling in its alien tones. "Watcher, your charge is gone far beyond where you can reach her, rest assured of that. As for my game . . ." Her smile widened, turned coy and smug. "You will find soon enough what I play at. But ease your mind Watcher, you've not been betrayed. All tales differ in the mouths of their tellers, and all coins have two sides, though they may look alike. I am not who I seem," A tilt of her head and a raised shoulder, "or perhaps I am." Suddenly the tilted head snaked around, and the inhuman eyes fixed onto Xander. She laughed again. "It is not polite to pry, mortal Reader. And some chests are locked even against your thieving mind, strong though it may be." She waved a hand elegantly in some pattern Faith couldn't discern. "Even if you could pry your way inside, you'd not comprehend what was there."   
  


Willow's voice sounded from behind them. It was a low murmuring in a language Faith couldn't understand. She turned her head sharply and shook her head firmly at the witch. Willow ignored her, her eyes brimming with tears as they stared with loathing at the blue-skinned woman. After a moment she raised her voice to a near shout, lifting her hands toward the dais with splayed fingers. Screeching blue tongues of fire licked from her fingers and scorched their way toward the woman. Faith dove out of the way, shoving Xander and Giles aside. The men landed in a tangle on the floor, Faith crouching next to them. She saw Gunn and Cordelia hurry forward, gripping the red-haired witch's arms and murmuring urgently in her ear. Willow shrugged them off, her lips already moving again.   
  


Laughter stopped her. The woman stood unharmed atop her unburned dais, and she laughed. Burns marked the dull office walls around the mystical marble stage, but nothing scarred the cool tiles or the woman who stood on it. The lawyers huddled further into the corner, fearful and angry expressions on their reddened faces. But, the spell's target was unaffected. On any other being, the smile she wore would have seemed fond. Instead it left Faith with a cold core of fear in her stomach. "The flame of truth cannot burn those like me. Has no one told you not to play with fire, witch? Or does that not apply to you, little flame?"   
  


"You stole some friends from us. Where are they?" Willow's voice was low and fearless. It was a tone Faith had heard from her before. She remembered it with a clarity that startled her, remembered standing in the Mayor's office with the other girl as she said that it was too late for Faith to make amends. It had surprised her then, the ferocity Willow was capable of. It had angered her too, having the truth thrown at her that way. Now, in the wake of the witch's self-made fire and new aura of power, it made Faith afraid. Not of Willow, because she knew that they were on the same side once again, but afraid for Willow. If she pissed off that blue bitch . . .   
  


Faith stood and moved between Willow and the woman, earning a glare from the witch. "Cut it out Will, Buffy wouldn't like it if I let you annoy Smurfette here into pushing you all through a big portal to Never-Never Land or something." She immediately regretted her choice of words as those around her seemed to wince and draw further away.   
  


"Considering your Buffy's change in attitude, she might not find it terribly upsetting." The woman eyed Faith almost hungrily. "A change that suits her, as it will her fellow Slayers. Even those not blessed by immortality." The woman's attention left Faith, turned to the men who waited in the corner, wary eyes moving back and forth between the group by the door and the blue skinned woman. She smiled coldly at them. "We will meet again, gentlemen. Be sure that things in this place move according to plan, or you will find your place not so secure." Her eyes moved to Lilah now, and the smile widened, turned almost appreciative. "That applies to you as well, Ms. Morgan. It is easy to fall from grace, even when one is as clever as you've proven to be." The marble dais began to fade as the woman smiled at Faith and her companions with an irritating cheeriness.   
  


"Whatever happens, I'll find a way to make you die for what you've done." Willow's voice again. Faith felt an odd sense of triumph when the blue woman's smile faded, and her eyes grew angry as they faded away. In a moment, the woman and her marble stage was gone. The room became once again simply a large and elegant office with slightly scorched walls.   
  


They stood stunned for a long moment, absorbing what had happened with a quiet shock that differed for each of them. It was Gunn who spoke first. "I don't know what's going on here, but I'm guessing these guys know exactly what's going down. We probably don't have much time before Wolfram & Hart's security busts in here with reinforcements. We should find out quick."   
  


Faith nodded and moved toward Lilah, who was staring at her with a wide, wary gaze that still managed to look calculating. "Faith, listen, we know as much as you do. Nothing more. We-"   
  


"She's lying." Xander's voice was flat. "I can tell she's lying. I just can't tell what about. There's something blocking me. I don't know . . ." His voice trailed off as his eyes bored into the lawyer's. "Damn it. If only I knew more . . . . I can't tell."   
  


"And you won't be able to, Mr. Harris. Wolfram & Hart prepares for all eventualities. There is, naturally a charm placed on all our employees who might have access to sensitive information. It has been in place ever since the unfortunate incident with young Lindsey. It was an oversight on our part not placing it as soon as information regarding your powers began to surface, I'll admit. It blocks people such as yourself from reading the minds of our best and brightest." The older man smiled charmingly at Xander. "Of course a powerful Reader like yourself could break the charm, with the right training. A shame there's no one around to train you. A waste of your gifts if you ask me. Should you ever choose to work for us, we would see to it that those powers were more meaningfully harnessed. Perhaps resurrect a tutor for you. I understand Nostradamus was an excellent teacher, when he wasn't sauced to the gills of course."   
  


"Who the hell are you, pops?" Faith cut in before Xander could speak. She just knew he'd ask something about Nostradamus.   
  


"Oh, forgive my rudeness. I'm Holland Manners. The charming, though surprisingly silent, men to my left are Matt Cronberg and Lee Stanchon, the most highly regarded human attorneys in our firm. Lilah Morgan I assume you know."   
  


"Lilah and I go way back, old friends. She likes diamonds and riding in limos. Likes to screw over everyone around her too, though she's not as up-front about that in her introductions." Faith sent the woman a crooked smile. "I'm guessing that's 'screw' in the literal sense as well as the figurative, but I could be wrong. Don't think I am, but it's possible." Holland chuckled hollowly and Faith fixed her eyes on him, her smile still in place. "So, no mind Reader assistance, huh? Guess we'll have to do this the old fashioned way. Either you tell me what I want to know, or I'll break every bone in your body one by one."   
  


"You're hardly in a position to threaten. As your friend pointed out, security is on the way. You're cutting into your escape time with this chit-chat. You've been in prison, Ms. Waverley. I can guarantee your jail-time would be a fond memory should this firm manage to incarcerate you again. We'll not be civilized enough to go to the authorities, or at least not the human ones." The taller of the two men, Holland had called him Lee Stanchon, spoke in confident tones that were undermined by the nervous stance of his body.   
  


Faith studied him for a moment, then turned her gaze to the other man. He was shorter and heavier. Despite the ordinary, unobtrusive appearance, she sensed that he was the more dangerous of the two. "So does Silent Bob here talk, or is he the puppet master, feeding you your lines?"   
  


"I talk when necessary, Ms. Waverley. There is nothing I need to say. You know who has the upper hand here." Matt Cronberg smiled, and there was nothing about the expression that didn't seem unnatural in some fundamental way.   
  


"Yeah, I know. But I'm the kind of gal that plays, even when the dice are against me. It's a failing of mine."   
  


"Faith, they're coming. I can't tell what they're thinking, but I can hear their thoughts approaching. Some of them are NOT human, and there's a lot more than we saw downstairs." Xander's voice sounded in her head, startling her. Briefly, she wondered when he'd learnt telepathy, but pushed the question aside for a later time. She glanced over her shoulder. They stood staring back at her, Gunn and Cordelia supporting the weakened Giles, Xander and Willow standing on either side of her, flanking her, backing her up. Suddenly she felt out of place. This shouldn't be her. This should be Buffy, her friends at her back waiting to help her. She shook off the feeling and met Xander's searching gaze. He spoke out loud this time. "What do you want us to do?"   
  


For a moment, she was at a loss. If she had her way, she'd charge in with fists flying, to hell with the guards. These assholes had done something to Buffy, they'd taken her sister Slayer away and replaced her with a monster somehow. And then they'd taken Angel - the one person who'd been willing to help her back out of the darkness she'd created. She needed to know what they knew, and they deserved death and pain for what they'd done.   
  


But she wasn't here alone, and 'her way' was what had started her down the wrong path in the first place, years ago. She glanced back at the lawyers and shook her head, sighing. "Tactical retreat I guess, Xan-man. But we'll be back, pencil-pushers. Don't worry about it. I guarantee we'll meet again."   
  


"Dialogue straight out of a B-movie. I expected better from you, Faith." Lilah sneered, her confidence suddenly surging now that she knew Faith was leaving.   
  


Suddenly Faith smiled, and glanced at Xander, her eyebrows raised in question. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded at her, a tiny smirk of satisfaction playing around the corners of her mouth. She turned back to Lilah as Gunn, Cordelia, Giles and Willow began making a careful exit at a silent direction from Xander. "Did you Lilah? I really do hate to disappoint. Guess I'll have to change my plans."   
  


Lilah's face instantly went guarded and wary again. The fear came too late as Faith pounced, leaping forward with the quickness of a cat after a ball of yarn. She delivered a single punch to the woman's head and Lilah crumpled into Faith's outstretched arms. She slung the lawyer over her shoulder like a sack and whirled to meet the three men. Each wore a different expression; Holland looked amused, Lee appalled, and Matt furious. Faith gave all three a cocky grin. "See you soon boys. Hope you won't miss Lilah here too much." She bounded out the door, Xander at her heels. She halted in front of the elevator doors, uncertain. "What if they cut the power, leave us stuck in the elevator?"   
  


Xander shook his head. "Don't think they will. I can't read their thoughts, but I got a general lay of the land. For whatever reasons, they WANTED us to get away. They didn't bet on us taking Lilah with us, but I'm guessing they won't be shedding tears over it either."   
  


She still hesitated. "You sure about this?"   
  


He smiled. "No. But we'd never get Lilah AND Giles down the stairs anyway."   
  


Faith nodded in agreement. "Fair enough." They scrambled through the doors Gunn and Willow had been holding open. They heard the sound of approaching footsteps as the doors slid shut. 

Xander shook his head. "Those guards really need some job training. They're always in the wrong place at the wrong time."   
  


Willow smiled slightly. "Lucky for us."   
  


The elevator moved downward, suddenly pausing on the eighth floor. Faith whipped one of the stakes from her jacket and held it up. The others did the same with various weapons, except the semi-conscious Giles. The doors slid open to reveal three young blonde women. The stood huddled and giggling, their eyes fixed on a young man pushing a mail cart down the hall. They turned as the door slid open and their eyes widened, giggles fading as they saw the attack-ready party the elevator held. The one nearest them stepped hurriedly away. "W-We'll take the next one."   
  


Willow tried to smile at them, though it came out slightly askew. "Good idea."   
  


As the doors slid shut again, they heard one of the blonde's voices. "I swear, this stuff never happened when I worked for the D.A.'s office. And was that Ms. Morgan over that girl's shoulder?" 

Faith smiled at that as she slid the stake back into her jacket. After a moment she scowled and swore loudly. Xander glanced at her. "What's wrong?"   
  


The question was absurd. After all, what WASN'T wrong? But she answered anyway. "I lost my crossbow in here somewhere."   
  


Gunn made an odd half laughing sound. "I think that's the least of our problems."   
  


"Maybe. But I liked that damn bow."   
  


"Bet Angel's got dozens. He was always big on the weaponry." Xander was quiet as the elevator descended until just before it stopped, then he glanced at her with raised eyebrows, "Faith Waverley?"   
  


She grinned hollowly and shifted Lilah slightly, raising her left hand to give him the finger. "Shut up."   
  


****************************************************************************** 

Her feet knew the way, though her head was too scattered to direct them. She didn't know what she wanted. Her sister was gone, and she couldn't remember where. She couldn't remember anything except her mother's still body lying on the living room floor, while the dark haired woman smiled over her. Her head swirled over the same thought over and over again as she ran, hugging the sunlight to her as protection. Her head was busy, but her feet led her to the only place she could go.   
  


The bell over the door rang as she ran inside. The sunlight dimmed and she looked around with fearful eyes, as if expecting the vampire woman to leap out of the shadows at her. She moved slowly inside, breathing heavily from her run. A voice startled her and she whirled to face it. "Dawn? What are you doing here? Are you al -" The voice died away as the speaker got a good look at her face. "Oh, god. You're not alright, are you? I'm not equipped to handle situations like this. I don't understand how teenage girls function. Was there a boy, or taunting, or peer pressure or something? Do you want me to call your mother? I still have friends in the vengeance business, if it was a boy. I could -" Anya chattered nervously as she took in Dawn's panicked and tearful expression. Dawn said nothing, words wouldn't come. She felt herself shaking. Anya quieted finally and studied her. She reached out with a tentative hand and touched the younger girl's shoulder, "Dawn?" She ventured again, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.   
  


Dawn broke down into tears, sobs welling up in her throat as Anya awkwardly tried to comfort her, trying not to be obvious in her attempts to shield the distraught teenager from a few gawking customers. She half led, half dragged the girl over to the ladder that led to the restricted section and pushed Dawn onto it. "What is going on?" Her eyes turned to the last of the eavesdropping customers; the other two were already creeping quietly toward the door in embarrassment. "And you, it's rude to gawk at other people's pain. Either spend money or go away." The man flushed and hurried out the door. Anya's attention turned back to Dawn. "What's the matter Dawnie?"   
  


"Oh, God, Anya. Buffy's not - and - Oh, God. My mom! She was just - and the vampire." Words finally emerged from the girl's mouth with sobbing incoherence.   
  


"Shh, shh, calm down. Tell me what happened." Slowly she drew the story from Dawn. It came out with agonizing slowness, but it came nonetheless. And Anya was suddenly desperately uncertain of everything. Since her break-up with Xander, she'd hovered on the edge of the Scoobies; helping with research now and then, running the store with Giles (and for Giles during his absence.). But she was no longer in the loop. Most of the time, it didn't bother her. But now, she had no idea what to do, or where anyone was. Willow was off with Tara somewhere she thought, and Xander and Buffy had gone to LA. Giles was still in England. . . . what was she supposed to do?   
  


Anya shut her eyes for a moment and tried to think of what Xander would do. The answer was useless. Xander would call Buffy. She looked toward the crying and shocked young girl. "We have to get out of here. Go somewhere she can't get in. We'll go to Xander's apartment, I still have a key. She can't get in there, and we'll find Cordelia's number in his stuff. If they're in LA, then she'll probably know where." She hurriedly turned the "Open" sign around and began locking up the store. When she was finished, she stood in front of Dawn and grasped her arm. "Come on. We have to get out of here." Dawn rose obediently, but the look on her face was disturbing. The usually volatile girl now looked completely blank. Her tears were gone and her eyes distant. Shock, Anya had heard about that. "Dawnie, it'll be okay."   
  


The girl looked at her and shook her head. "No. It won't."   
  


Anya bit her lip and fell silent, dragging Dawn out the door and locking it behind her. Tucked beneath her arm was a book of low-level protection and location spells. They stayed in the middle of the sunlit streets as they made their way to Xander's. Dawn was silent the whole way until Anya unlocked the door and pushed her inside. Then she suddenly spoke, and the childish tremor in her voice broke Anya's heart. "Do you think she's a vampire now?"   
  


"I don't know Dawn." She wasn't sure whether it was better to be a vampire and alive or dead. She glanced around the apartment she'd spent so much time in and wished that Xander was here to greet them, to pull her into his arms and take all these thoughts of death and loneliness and little girls without mothers out of her head. She'd liked Joyce; she liked Dawn. She didn't know why Joyce had to die. She wished she couldn't feel how much it hurt to lose someone, even someone you didn't know that well. "We'd better call Cordelia. See if you can find the number." She knew where his address book was. She just wanted to distract Dawn. It didn't work. The girl just sank onto a sofa and stared into space as Anya pulled the book out of the drawer by the phone and dialed the number.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


"We should have taken him to the hospital." Cordelia murmured in Faith's ear as the two of them watched Gunn and Xander gently lower Giles onto the sofa in the lobby.   
  


Faith shook her head. "No time. They wouldn't want to release him, and we might need him. Willow says she doesn't see any major injuries, aside from the concussion and lots of bruises. Maybe a broken rib."   
  


The taller girl frowned, shook her head. "He could have a concussion. Letting him sleep when he hasn't been checked . . ."   
  


"We don't have much choice. Willow says we have to wake him up every ten minutes or so, just to make sure. That's the best we can do for now. Hopefully there's something witchy Willow can do to fix him, or else he'll have to wake up on his own. I think . . ." Faith hesitated, then shrugged. "I think maybe he doesn't want to wake up. It's a lot for the old guy to deal with, ya know?" Cordelia nodded in answer, though she sighed regretfully. Faith's voice turned authoritative. "We'll tape him up, stock up on weapons and head for Sunnydale." Cordelia hesitated, an odd look crossing her face. Faith saw it. "What?"   
  


The other girl shook her head slightly. "Nothing. I-mean. It's just . . ." She hesitated. "It's been a while since I've taken orders from anyone but Angel and Wesley. And before that it was -"   
  


"Buffy and Giles. Yeah, I know." Faith tried to smile, but that sense of wrongness she'd felt in Lilah's office had come back with a vengeance and the smile wouldn't come up right. "Giles isn't up to it. And I'm not trying to give orders, I'm just -"   
  


"I know." Cordelia smiled, the expression more natural for her than Faith's had been. "You're the Slayer Faith. We're not going to be able to stop this without you. I'm willing to follow your lead unless someone comes up with a better idea. It's just . . ." Her gaze flickered toward Willow, who hovered over Giles with a worried expression. "Not everyone else might be, you know?"   
  


Faith's voice was quiet. "Yeah, I know." She was silent for a long moment then turned to Cordelia. "Look, why don't you and Gunn go start gathering and loading weapons into the car? Since you know where everything is, I mean."   
  


Cordelia nodded and moved quickly away. Faith sighed and walked toward where Giles and Willow were. Willow looked up at her with sad eyes. "He'll live." She said simply.   
  


"Good. I'd hate to have to leave him here while we go to Sunnydale."   
  


A look of anger crossed the Willow's features, but she said nothing, only nodded. "Th-there's a few small healing spells I can do when we get there, and I can use all the books at the shop. Magical healing generally doesn't work all that well, but it can help with non-life threatening stuff like this. It'll get him awake and coherent again, which is good. He's our best researcher."   
  


There was a businesslike tone to Willow's voice that she was obviously using to hide the bleakness in her eyes. Faith hesitated, searching for words. "Will, I know how hard this must be and all, but-"   
  


"You don't know a damn thing about it. You have no idea what it's like to watch two of the people you love best in the world just disappear. Or to watch your best friend become a stranger right in front of your face. You don't have friends, and you don't love anything. So don't pretend you understand, okay Faith?" Willow's tone was hard, the emotions in it brittle. Her voice lowered slightly. "Look, there's big evil afoot. I get it. We have to get to Sunnydale, and you're Slay-gal now. I'm on board, towing the line and all. But when we get to Sunnydale, I'm finding a way to bring them back. And then I'll find a way to stop Glory."   
  


Faith flushed angrily, and her words were harsher than she'd intended. "No you won't Red. Buffy bailed long before that blonde got her hands on her head. And the rest of them jumped in all on their own. I'm all for bringing 'em back, don't get me wrong. But first we have to take care of Glory, priority numero uno, got me?"   
  


"You think I'm going to take orders from a psychopath? This isn't high school Faith, and I'm not some little nerd the Mayor had you kidnap anymore. Tara didn't jump through, she fell. And I'm bringing her back. Yo-you want to try to stop me, go ahead. Seems like you'd have better things to do, what with an evil god running around and all."   
  


Faith sighed, her anger suddenly giving way to a deep weariness and an odd longing for the simplicity of prison life. "Willow, I know what you are. Angel's talked about you, and I saw you myself when I was in Buffy's body. You've got some serious magic mojo going on, and a brand spanking new self-image to go along with it. I'm the last gal to bag on you for getting some girl-power attitude going, and my bet is you WILL bring them back. And that's all good. But this Glory is going to go after Buffy's little sister. She's going to end the world. I'm just a Slayer, not an army or a witch. I'll need help. I'll need research, and magic, and brains smarter than mine to come up with plans. I wish I could just let you get your little woman back and Buffy too, but you have to help me first."   
  


Willow fell silent, and some of the anger drained out of her. Finally she nodded and her voice was a near whisper as she answered. "I'll help." Faith nodded in return and turned to leave when the girl spoke again. "Faith?" The Slayer turned, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Willow raised her eyes and met Faith's with an honest expression of distrust. "I can buy the nobility act. I-I can understand you wanting to go all good again. I can't believe it, but I can understand it. But don't try to tell me you want me to bring Buffy back. We both know that's a lie." Willow smiled, and there was loathing in the expression that went deeper than even Faith had expected. "Don't we?" 

Faith said nothing for a long moment, fists clenched as she stared down at the offensively calm witch. Finally she nodded her head toward Cordelia, who was carrying a large box toward the front doors. "Ask Cordelia where the books are and see if there's anything we won't have in good ole Sunnydale that we might need." Willow nodded and stood, not meeting Faith's gaze again. She walked away and Faith watched her go, anger warring with guilt in her head.   
  


A footstep behind her caught her attention, and she turned to see Xander standing awkwardly behind her, uncertainty in his eyes. After a long moment he smiled slightly. "Before the mayor and all, when you and Buffy were buds, Willow was afraid you were going to steal Buffy away. You and Buff had all this camaraderie that Willow couldn't have because she wasn't a Slayer. There was stuff you understood about Buffy that she never could. But Buffy was her best friend, and even though she resented you, she was happy Buffy had someone to trust. And then when things went bad . . ." Xander shrugged, an expression of regret in his face. "Willow knew more than anyone else how much it hurt Buffy to be betrayed by you. For all those reasons, Wills has more reason to hate you than anyone, more even than Buffy, maybe."   
  


Faith shook her head. "I seriously doubt that last part." She appraised Xander and there was an oddly timid look in her eyes. "So how come you're not on the same bandwagon Will's riding on? I mean . . . I wasn't exactly a saint to you . . . or with you."   
  


He sighed and winced slightly, then forced a quiet smile. "It's different for me. I can see what you want, sometimes, when I forget to not look. I can feel what you feel, a little bit. I know what's in your head . . . and your heart I guess. Willow thinks your lying. But you can't lie to yourself well enough to fool me, so I guess I know I can trust your motivations."   
  


She laughed then, a bitter sound that was older than her years. "Think you could fill Willow in, bring her up to speed then?"   
  


He shook his head. "It won't do any good." He hesitated and met her eyes with another small smile. "But I'll try anyways."   
  


She gave him an appreciative look, but said nothing for a long moment. When she spoke, it was in an entirely different tone. The tough detached voice he was accustomed to reemerged. "So when did you get all big with the insight and appropriate comments?"   
  


He shrugged philosophically. "Since I got an all access pass to people's brains I guess."   
  


She shook her head. "Nah. It's not just that. I think . . ." She shrugged and smiled. "I think maybe you just grew up, Xander Harris. And if you did it, then hell, maybe there's a chance for me." 

"Nothing's impossible." Xander nodded his head toward where Gunn and Cordelia were arguing over the last of the weapons to take. "We taking off soon?"   
  


"Sooner the better. Figure we better take both cars, with the weapons and books and all. Gunn can drive Willow and Cordelia with Giles. You, me, and our luggage will take the other car." Faith was silent for a long moment, then spoke in a sudden rush, her voice reverting again to that open tone that was so strange coming from the formerly unreachable Slayer. "This is all wrong, you know. Me, here, now, leading the pack. It - I mean I didn't . . ."   
  


He waited a moment, his eyes on her face but not really seeing her. Instead he seemed to be looking through her, and that made her want to run away from him as fast as her super-human legs could carry her. Then he laid a hand on her shoulder and smiled slightly his words carefully chosen and measured. "You're a Slayer, Faith. If Buffy had been here, if things had been different, yeah we would have followed her. But, she's not. And the world needs its superheroes. For what it's worth, before this all started - before things changed and mistakes made us all regret things that had happened - I never thought you were any less than Buffy. You were just different, not better, not worse, just different. And I would have followed you, if she had left or . . . well . . . I would have followed you if you were the one left." He wouldn't meet her eyes, but he gave her a final nervous smile. "We need you Faith. And maybe you need us. And maybe . . . maybe you need this too, this impossible mission to remind you that you're built to do the impossible."   
  


Faith couldn't think of a single thing to say. A small, detached part of her mind wondered if this was the first time that had ever happened. Finally, she smiled with a sad grace Xander had never seen before in her. "Maybe you're right." Her eyes locked with his, and he saw a hint of gratefulness in her gaze, along with a weary regret. "But don't think I don't know which part of that was a lie. Points for effort though. I almost believed it for a minute."   
  


His knowing gaze filled with regret, and with an unspoken acknowledgment that somehow confirmed what she'd said, and made it hurt just a bit more. She looked away, lost in thought. Xander grinned suddenly and cleared his throat, changing the subject with a graceless lack of subtlety that was almost endearing. "Speaking of luggage, it doesn't look happy. Think we should allow potty breaks?"   
  


Allowing her dark thoughts to fade, Faith turned and fastened her gaze on the chair where "the luggage" - Lilah Morgan - was firmly tied and gagged, her brown eyes wide and furious. "Nah. Not yet anyways. We'll see how much stamina the gal's got." Lilah's eyes narrowed and Faith blew her a kiss and waved. "C'mon, let's help get everything packed, then load up Giles and the luggage." Faith pulled Xander toward the small pile of weapons that remained by the door. As they both bent to pick them up, Faith gave Xander an awkward smile. "Hey Xan . . thanks."   
  


He smiled in return and gave her a clumsy and hopelessly goofy salute. Cordelia rolled her eyes as she walked back inside, Gunn at her heels. "That's the last of the stuff. Willow said they're a few books, but not many. She's getting them for Gunn now. After that we're good to go." The brunette leaned against the desk for a moment and appraised the large lobby with thoughtful eyes. "It seems . . . empty. I mean, it's always been too big for how many people we had and all, but with Angel and Wesley gone it's just . . . . I don't know." Gunn gave her shoulder a quick squeeze and she smiled briefly at him. She seemed on the verge of saying something else when the phone suddenly rang, stopping her before she began. She stared at it for a second before shrugging and picking it up. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless. This is Cordelia, how may I help you?"   
  


Faith rolled her eyes and glanced at Gunn. "Do you all have to answer the phone like that?"   
  


He sighed. "On threat of death, torture, or make-over."   
  


"I feel your pain."   
  


"Shh!" Cordelia hissed at them both. "What? No I - Oh, yes. Well, no, but - Yes, he's here. Is there something - Actually we're - Okay, calm down. It's okay. Here, he's right here." Cordelia covered the mouthpiece, a deeply worried look on her pretty face. "Xander, it's for you. I'm not sure, but I think it may be Anya."   
  


Xander frowned and took the cracked receiver. "Hello? Anya? What do you - Okay, okay. Calm down a little. What happened? You're where? No, no, I don't mind. Why - What?" He paled suddenly, looking sick and overwhelmed. "Are you sure? What were you doing there? You didn't - She did? Oh God. No, no, it's okay. You did the right thing. Just stay there. Watch her. Don't open the door or anything, we'll be there as soon as we can. I don't know Anya, just do what you can for her. She's - I promise, we'll be there soon. Okay. Hang in there, stay inside. Okay. We'll call on the way, alright? Be careful An, we'll do our best. Yeah, I - I mean, bye Anya."   
  


Xander handed the phone back to Cordelia with an expression of shock and uncertainty on his pale face. They all waited without speaking. Finally Cordelia couldn't stand it anymore. "Xander? What's wrong? What did she say?"   
  


He sighed. "Joyce . . . Joyce is dead. Dawn found her with a vampire standing over her. A dark haired woman vampire with an English accent."   
  


Gunn shook his head in disgust as Faith slammed her fist into the desk. Cordelia stood with an oddly detached expression. Faith was the first to speak, her eyes turning to Xander questioningly. "Drusilla?"   
  


Xander nodded. "I - think . . . I mean yeah, probably." He swallowed thickly. "They're at my apartment, we'd better go. Dawn's . . . not doing too well I don't think. She's stopped talking at all."   
  


Silently, they gathered the last of their things. Only Faith stayed where she was, earning her a glare from Willow and Cordelia. After a moment Xander came to stand beside her and touched her on the arm. She looked up and glanced toward the doors, where the others were putting the last of the gear into the cars. Her voice was low when she spoke. "Drusilla can read the future, can't she?" He nodded in answer. "You told Buffy that Dawn was the Key Glory wants? And the Host-guy saw that, right?" He nodded again, already knowing what she was going to say. "Drusilla . . . do you think she was after Dawn?"   
  


He shrugged and sighed. "I don't know. I think she probably knew. She's almost impossible to read, her thoughts are incredibly weird, but I got flashes of things that didn't add up until I saw what The Host knew. I think she might have gone after Dawn to get her before Glory." He reached up and ran his hand over his face tiredly. "Why she would do that, I don't know. Why she would kill Joyce . . . well that might just be a day's work. She's an evil bloodsucking fiend, after all. We tend to forget that with all these toothless vamps we have to play with around here. But why get in Glory's way? The only reason I can figure is she doesn't want Glory to end the world. Which doesn't make sense, because she tried to help Angelus end the world once already."   
  


Faith kicked lightly at the desk, which shuddered at the casual force. "I don't understand. What is Dawn? I mean, I remember her as Buffy's pesky little sis, the only one of you Scoobies that liked peanut butter and banana sandwiches, like me. How can she be some key? She's just a kid. She's not even adopted or anything, right?"   
  


"Nope, not adopted, fully fledged Summers' sister far as I know. I don't know. I don't understand it either. I'm hoping Giles . . ." His voice trailed off as he glanced at the sleeping Watcher. "Hopefully he'll wake up and know something about what the hell's going on here."   
  


The Slayer followed his gaze. "We'll fix him up in Sunnydale. We'd better get moving though. I think the clock is ticking." Xander nodded and the two of them moved away from the desk. Xander went and, with Gunn's help, roused Giles and helped him into the passenger's seat of his car and buckled him in. Faith grabbed Lilah and shoved her unceremoniously into the back. As Xander clicked the locks and started the car, Faith roughly ripped the tape from Lilah's mouth and smiled at the angry and fearful lawyer. "Okay big lady, time for us to have a heart to heart. We got nothing but road ahead of us, and nothing to do but talk. Let's start with Glory and the Key she's looking for. You tell us everything you know, and I might let you keep all your teeth."   
  


Lilah glared stubbornly, white-edged lips clamped defiantly shut. Faith gave her a slow, wickedly eager grin as Xander watched them worriedly in the rearview mirror. Faith's knife-sharp smile sent chills down his spine. The last time he'd seen that expression, the dark haired Slayer had been holding a deadly, beautiful blade to Willow's throat. As he waited at the faded stop sign at the end of the street, he closed his eyes for just a moment and allowed himself to indulge in a moment of grief, longing, and wishfulness. He wished that his friends were here, safe and alive. He grieved for their loss, and he longed for the return of sanity to his complex world. Most of all, he wished the Slayer in the back seat had blonde hair, and didn't fill him with memories of fear, and twinges of uncertainty. Then he opened his eyes and drove away, his eyes fastened on the road as Faith's voice filled his ears.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	14. Necessity

  
  


Author's Note: Well, here we are again. Can you believe I finally managed to get this part up? Neither can I. First of all, I had a horrible bout of block over this chapter. I couldn't seem to get it to flow at all. Then, just when I'd gotten it going, my computer blew up. Now, I know I should have backups, and I do. But I didn't have them updated with the three newest chapters. So with nothing to work on, I was stuck for a while. I managed to get my column out by using other people's machines, (since all the submitted reviews are stored online, and can be accessed from anywhere) but Female just sat. My computer is finally fixed, and it looks like some bugs are ironing out, so hopefully the rest of this story will be quicker in the coming. Thank you for your patience, those of you who are still muddling through and waiting for each chapter. Ya'll are just brilliant, thank you for the email.   
  
  
  
  
  
Part Thirteen:   
  
Necessity   
  
  
  
"We do what we must, and call it by the best names."   
  
-- Ralph Waldo Emerson   
  
  
  
  
  


She waited, utterly confident in the knowledge that they would soon come to see her. The sun had long since slunk into hiding and given way to the gray haze of a California night, where the streetlights of modern living denied true darkness from ever encroaching on the safety of their suburb. Nothing held her here and part of her mind, the canny part that worried only for survival, urged her to abandon her post, before it was too late. She ignored it and sat on the stairs, her eyes fixed on the doorway without wavering.   
  


When the door opened she stiffened, and there was surprise in her face that bled into her voice as she spoke. "I didn't think you would be the first one here. You are not royalty, as I thought you'd be, are you? Just a soldier." Her dark head tilted, eyes amused. "You are not the Queen, little rat. Strong for a rat, but still just a rodent." The amusement gave way to a glittering, mad malevolence. "In another place and time, I would have fed you cheese and ripped out your heart, little Slayer-rat."   
  


Faith smiled slowly, her eyes surveying the room, searching for more vampires. "Sorry to disappoint you. Drusilla, isn't it? We met earlier, but you were too busy running out the back door to be introduced." She felt Xander and Gunn at her back, waiting for her to step inside and make room for them to enter. She didn't. She stood where she was. "So if you didn't think I would be first, you still thought I'd be here, right? 'Cause you're some kind of big vampy seer, yeah? So what are you still doing here, if this isn't the time for you to slice me apart?" Her smile widened. "Which, by the way, is a long shot. I've played with vamps much bigger and badder than you, and they didn't slice anything of mine."   
  


Drusilla shrugged. "Bigger is not always better." She fixed her eyes on Faith and there was something in her that held Faith back. The vampire turned her eyes to the wall, and seemed lost in some thought. Faith waited, and then the eyes returned to her, and she spoke. "I am not meant to see with eyes like the rest of the world. It was nice for a novelty, but if she has her way it will stay that way, I think. I will be blind. Like you. Seeing nothing but what is right before my eyes." Her face twisted with disgust, her voice turned petulant. "I don't like not seeing." She stood and smoothed her skirts with a graceful gesture, her long fingers pleating and unpleating the folds as she swayed slightly from side to side. "I know what she wants. The Queen wants her key. And if she gets it, then she'll unlock the door to hell. That would make me unhappy."   
  


"Other than blocking a few channels on your mental satellite, why would you care? I've been told by a reliable source that you already tried to send the world to hell once. So why would you want to keep someone else from doing your dirty work for you? And what makes you think I give a damn whether you're happy or not?"   
  


Drusilla shook her head. "That was Acathla's hell - a paradise for vampires. Angelus told me of rivers of blood and humans tied to walls, just waiting for us to bleed them dry." She smiled wistfully. "It would have been beautifully terrible, terribly beautiful." She sobered. "The Queen comes from a different place, a place of fire and gods who swat at vampires like flies. A place that would be hell for me, as well as you. I don't want to live there. I don't care for burning or gods. I want things to stay as they are, a world of humans where we are stronger than all but a few. I want to see where the steps of the world lead long before I move down the path, as I have for so long already."   
  


Faith blinked. "So you want to help us stop Glory?"   
  


Drusilla laughed, light and musical. "Oh no. Even if she wins and finds the Key, then it will take a while for everything to change. If I help you and she wins, then I'll die right away. I see no point in rushing things, do you?" Faith glared and, without turning, slipped one hand behind her and pushed roughly at Xander and Gunn, who were attempting to slide past her. Drusilla sobered. "But I can tell you things, things that might help."   
  


"Why should I trust you?" Faith demanded. "You KILLED Joyce. You probably would have killed Dawn too, if she hadn't been quick on her feet. That's -" Her eyes suddenly widened as a thought occurred to her. Behind her, Xander caught his breath as well, overhearing her thoughts.   
  


Drusilla was no mind reader, but she knew what they were thinking anyway. "I wasn't going to kill her, you know. She's very pretty. Pale skin, long hair, and she shined all green and pure when I saw her, before the visions went away." She shook her head. "I would have, if it would have stopped her. I'd have snapped her neck and drank to see if her blood tasted like green fire. If I could have been sure, I would have done it." She smiled slightly, a thin cunning expression flashing beneath her knowing eyes. "So would you have, Slayer, yes? The other wouldn't. But you . . . you would do what needs to be done, would you not?" She tilted her head as Faith blanched slightly. "Or perhaps not. Changes in the air that I haven't seen, and I can't be sure of that, either. Can't be sure of anything. So I let her live, just in case. Better safe than sorry, after all - Mummy always said that." She looked suddenly at Faith with eyes that were utterly sane, and all the more disturbing for their normality. "She'll cut her open while she hangs in midair, and the portal to hell will swirl open while she dies." She cocked her head. "Maybe it closes again when she's all-the-way-dead, but I can't be sure. It would make a good experiment, if she starts to bleed. Best to keep it from coming to that, though."   
  


Faith went still and Xander took advantage of her distraction, pushing her inside and bulling his way through the door behind her, Gunn a step behind. Faith sent him an irritated glance, but he ignored her, his eyes on Drusilla. He leaned close to Faith. "She's telling the truth. Or at least she thinks she is. Other than that, I can't tell what the hell's going on in her head. She's like . . . I don't know. She's just crazy. I can't tell what crazy people are thinking, there's too much static." He straightened, eyes hard. "You killed Kendra, you killed Joyce. You're a monster, you can't be trusted."   
  


She smiled. "You see inside my head, don't you? I saw that, a possibility not set in stone. Long ago I saw that I would love you once, did you know that? Or I think I did. It was only for a night, and sometimes I think it really happened. But it couldn't have, could it? Just a vision that didn't come to pass, like so many others." She blinked languidly at him, a smile on her face that was caught somewhere between seductive and innocent. "In it, I would have made you live forever. I still could, if you begged me nicely and brought me good things to eat." Xander shuddered and a look of guilt crossed his face. Faith glanced from him to the vampire in confusion. Drusilla paid no attention, her expression turning thoughtful. "You can see the truth. The Slayer's mother . . .I saw her once, too. When I saw her, she died slowly after pain, and cutting, and crying. Men in white shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders and cut away her sunshine-hair. There was a monster in her head that no one could see. But I saw it. Soon, it would eat her alive. I let her go first, before the pain and shaking. It was a favor." The thoughtful look faded, replaced by an expression that made him cringe. "It was fun, though. She tasted like regret. All sweet-and-sour."   
  


Xander made a low sound of pained anger and took a step forward. Faith caught him by the sleeve and pulled him back. She turned to Gunn and the two traded a glance. He shrugged and nodded at her, understanding her unspoken question. She turned to Xander, and he studied her with angry eyes for a long moment. He turned away, fury in every line of his body, eyes focusing on the fidgeting vampire for a long, unmoving moment. Finally he gave a curt nod of assent and she squeezed his arm slightly. "Alright. You tell us what you know, and we don't show you the pointy end of the stake. But we better get out of here. Glory will be here soon."   
  


Drusilla gazed past them. "I thought she'd be here already." She moved toward them lightly before smiling. "Can we go to the mansion, or the factory? I've not seen them in ages."   
  


Faith grimaced and stepped aside to let the vampire pass. Gunn was clutching spastically at the stake in his hands as he turned to follow her. Faith stopped Xander before he could do the same. She nodded her head toward the house. "Take care of Joyce." He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off. "You're already this close to wigging 'cause of her." She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart as she jerked her head toward the vampire, and then closed her hand into a fist. "More time in her company is only gonna make it worse. You're mind-reading stuff doesn't help with her. She's too nutty. But we still gotta find out what she knows. Gunn and me'll do that. You take care of Joyce, keep Dawn safe, keep Lilah miserable, and hit the books back at that magic shop with Cordelia. We'll meet you when we're through, then you can verify what we found out, make sure she's telling the truth, okay? She held his eyes as she spoke, seeing the resentment in his face. When she finished, he was silent for a long moment before finally giving a terse nod and turning to enter the house again. "Xander, hurry. Chances are company's on the way. Get her out of there, then worry about what to do with the -" She hesitated. "Figure out what to do with her once you're away from here, alright? Use Joyce's car. She used to keep the keys -"   
  


"I know where she keeps them." He interrupted. She saw in his face that he'd seen how SHE knew where the keys where. That he'd seen her thoughts of when she'd first met Buffy and she'd memorized the house, just in case there came a time when she needed to grab some stuff and run. Some of Joyce's art stuff would have brought a fortune. She avoided his eyes as she turned away.   
  


Faith sighed slightly and moved toward the car, where Gunn and Drusilla waited, Anya sitting impatiently behind the wheel of the car. Faith eyed her for a moment, uncertain of where the girl came from. She hadn't gotten the full story on her yet. She knew her and Xander used to be snuggly from when she'd swiped Buffy's body . . . but the chick was weird. She waved to drag Anya's attention away from Drusilla, who was staring aimlessly around. "Hey, Anya, pop the trunk, would ya?"   
  


Gunn gave her a confused look as she strolled casually toward the now open rear of the car. "Whatcha doing?" He asked in low tones.   
  


Drusilla interrupted before Faith could answer, suddenly paying them a great deal of attention. "I will not ride back there, you know."   
  


"Wouldn't dream of asking you to." Faith told her smoothly. "Too many creature comforts back there. I had my heart set on tying you to the roof and driving around till sunrise, really."   
  


Drusilla growled slightly and moved toward Faith. Gunn instantly reached for her, raising the stake he still held. She whirled on him and pushed him aside. Faith darted forward, brandishing the tire iron she'd pulled from the trunk. She brought it crashing down onto the vampire's skull in a blow that would probably have crushed a normal person's head. The tall vampire woman wilted to the ground, neither one of them making an effort to catch her. Gunn glanced from the prone vampire to Faith. "So that's what you were digging in the trunk for?"   
  


Faith nodded. "Plus there was a little Giles-car bonus, too." She went back to the trunk and pulled out a pair of handcuffs and a length of iron-strong cord, a cold grin spread across her face. "I don't know whether to be thankful, or a little grossed out."   
  


Gunn didn't smile. "She thought you were all trusting her. She didn't know you were gonna down her when her back was turned."   
  


She glanced at him, genuinely surprised. "You're riding me about proper disclosure with a murdering bitch of a vampire? Funny, didn't have you pegged for the moralizing type." He looked pained and she waved her hand dismissively. "Whatever. Look, I wasn't about to trust her with her hands free, and she wouldn't have stood still and begged to be tied up. So I took the decision out of her hands. You got a problem with that, take it up with Willow when we get back. She'll probably be on your side of the camp, so long as I'm on the other. In the meantime, help me tie her up." She tossed him the handcuffs and he awkwardly bent and began closing them around Drusilla's wrists.   
  


Anya craned her neck and watched with a disapproving look on her face. "You're doing that wrong. Her hands are supposed to be behind her back. Like in those prison movies." Faith smiled a bit at that as she began fastening the vampire's arms to her sides and her feet together. When they'd finished, Faith tossed Drusilla unceremoniously in the back seat, then slid into the front beside Anya as Gunn climbed resentfully into the back. Anya glanced at her. Faith couldn't judge really, she didn't know Anya well enough, but she thought she looked intimidated. Faith smiled to try to put her at ease. Anya glanced over her shoulder at Drusilla, then back at Faith. "You were right to knock her out. You should have used something heavier, and more pointy. She made Dawn cry. She - " Anya glanced at the house sadly. "She deserves it."   
  


Faith nodded in agreement. "She'll get what's coming to her. Right now we need to know whatever the hell it is that she knows though. Take us somewhere secure, not Xander's. I don't want Dawn to see her."   
  


Anya nodded and shifted the car into gear. "We'll go to the Magic Box with Cordelia. It's where all the books are anyway. And there's lots of stuff we can use to tie her up."   
  


"No, if that's where the books are, then Red and Giles will wind up there, too, and they'll probably bring Dawnie with them. I don't want this bitch near her, unless we have to." Faith hesitated, then glanced over her shoulder at the unconscious vampire. "You know, she had a point. It has been a while since I've been back to the old mansion. It's as good a place as any. Even comes with handy built-in chains in the walls." She ignored Gunn's questioning look and turned to Anya. "You know where it is, demon-lady?" Anya didn't respond, but the car moved purposefully away from Buffy's house as Drusilla moaned softly in the backseat while Gunn edged as far away as he could.   
  


****************************************************************************** 

"Are you starting to feel a little better? I could look up some revitalizing spells. I've never done them before, but they should be pretty easy after the healing stuff, and the healing probably made you tired. How's your head? Do you want some Tylenol? I could run and get some minced roots of -"   
  


"Willow, I'm feeling much better. You don't need to do anything else." Giles' voice was still weak, despite his words and she frowned, not convinced. "Really, there's nothing else you can do to make me feel better."   
  


She winced at his choice of words, and glanced away from the older man. "I know."   
  


He sighed heavily, reaching up a still shaky hand to rub at his temples tiredly. "I didn't mean to imply anything."   
  


She smiled sadly. "I know that, too."   
  


He squeezed her arm lightly, his eyes moving past her to squint at the vaguely Dawn-shaped blur in the corner. Damn them for breaking his glasses, anyway. He sat up slowly, ignoring the arms she stretched out to try to help him. He nodded his head toward the girl. "Ha-has she spoken? Asked questions? Anything?"   
  


Willow shook her head. "N-no. Anya said that she-she hadn't said anything since Anya called us. She said Dawn asked if her mom would be a-a vampire, but that was all."   
  


"What did Anya tell her?"   
  


She shrugged. "I don't know. She probably said she hoped not, or-or something."   
  


Giles stood cautiously, his head swimming. He gripped the arm of the sofa carefully to keep upright, ignoring Willow's cries of protest. "Willow please! I'm a grown man, I know when I can and cannot stand up. I've chased down a Lernogob demon with nothing but a stake and a glass of vodka when I was far dizzier than this, and came through it just fine." The vodka had been for the demon, as any kind of alcohol in contact with its skin caused it to be temporarily paralyzed. An odd side-effect of that breed. He had, however, consumed the rest of the bottle on his own after a particularly nasty first date, which accounted for the dizziness.   
  


When his head had calmed down enough to ease his death grip on the sofa, he moved slowly over to where Dawn sat. The girl was curled into a chair in the corner, her arms wrapped around her legs in a defensive, childlike posture. Her eyes were wide open, but stared at the wall opposite her, blinking only rarely. Giles sank into the chair Willow had stealthily slipped underneath him and sat opposite the young girl. "Dawn?" He spoke softly, not wanting to startle her. She ignored him. He spoke again, his voice just a little louder, his hand touching her on the shoulder. "Dawn?"   
  


It took several more tries to gain the girl's attention. When finally she looked at him, he had the odd sensation that she was only just realizing he was here. She studied him with a detached gaze for a long moment, and when she finally spoke, her voice was an even, deaden imitation of her usual vivacious tone. "You look hurt."   
  


He smiled faintly. "Yes, well, we had some problems in England, and I wasn't as cooperative as they wanted me to be."   
  


She didn't smile. "My mother is dead." Her voice was the same flat tone.   
  


He paused a moment, taken aback. Sympathy seemed out of place somehow, as if she'd barely taken it in, and it wasn't what she needed. He settled on simplicity. "Yes. I know."   
  


She blinked at that, the strongest reaction he'd seen yet from her. Willow sat on the sofa where he'd been a moment ago, trying to look like she wasn't listening. But he'd heard her strangled sound of grief when Dawn had spoken. Dawn didn't seem to. Her eyes were focused on Giles with an intensity that unnerved him. "Buffy is too, isn't she? That's why she isn't here."   
  


Willow gasped softly from behind him, but he didn't turn to look at her. His mind focused on what to tell Dawn. His instinct was to protect her. The child - and at the moment she seemed a child to him, despite her age - had just lost her mother, she couldn't possibly handle the loss of her sister as well. But the more pragmatic part of him knew that there was no way to protect her from what was about to happen. He'd drifted in and out of consciousness for some time, but he'd been awake enough to know that Dawn was at the center of this mess, and she'd have to know about it eventually. Still, there were things that could be glossed over, for the moment. He chose his words carefully. "No Dawn, Buffy's not dead. However, there was an incident in L.A., and Buffy, Angel, Spike, Tara, and Wesley were all pulled through a-a portal of some type."   
  


He paused to collect his thoughts, and Dawn interrupted. "Can you bring them back?"   
  


He blinked. "We hope so, yes. But we have to-to research, and see what can be done, and there are other matters to consider, first."   
  


The young girl looked at him, and there was an anger in her eyes. He knew that she wouldn't appreciate it if he told her so, but in that moment she looked more like her sister than he could ever remember. "What could be more important than bringing my SISTER back from some hell dimension? She doesn't I-I mean . . ." She trailed off, something trying hard to break behind her eyes. But she held it together with a fierce pride. Again, he was reminded of her sister. Or the sister she was supposed to have, anyway. And how could that be. She glanced away, and her voice was smaller, younger. "She doesn't even know."   
  


He sighed. "Dawn, I promise we'll do the best we can. But first there are some matters that need to be taken care of. You know I want Buffy back as badly as you do, I wouldn't dawdle over matters concerning her return if it was not important."   
  


She went still suddenly, her eyes fixed on him with a disturbing evenness. "There's something you're not telling me." He looked away, and anger returned to her with sudden renewed violence. She surged to her feet, long hair swinging around her shoulders. He could see her shaking. "What aren't you telling me? I have to know! What is going on, who killed my mother? Who took my sister away? And why do I feel-" She jerked to a stop suddenly, her anger dying away again as quickly as it came to be replaced with a deep, painful guilt. "Why do I feel like it's all my fault?"   
  


Giles reached forward and awkwardly hugged her. She neither accepted nor rejected the inept embrace. He felt rather useless. He'd never been much good with things like this. Willow came to his rescue, stepping in between them and pulling Dawn into a much more natural looking hug. The older girl stroked Dawn's long hair and murmured. "It's not your fault, Dawnie. Bad things happen, and sometimes they're nobody's fault. We don't know anything yet. Things are-are crazy and wrong. But when we figure it out, I'll tell you, okay? For right now . . . just try to relax as much as you can. I know that's a stupid thing to tell you to do, but there's just not much else to DO right now. When we start researching, you can help." Willow looked up to meet Giles' somewhat disapproving gaze and shrugged. "You're old enough, and you deserve to help us, if you want to." Her words stopped there, but what she left unsaid was in her eyes as she looked at Giles. Dawn's mother was dead, and her sister was gone. Willow told him without words that the girl needed something useful to do, or she'd break apart.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


It all had a surreal quality to it: the drive with his friend's mother's dead body in the back of the car she'd owned, the phone call from a pay phone in an alley near the graveyard where he'd left the body, the wait for the paramedics to arrive and take her away, the drive back to the house, the moments spent cleaning his fingerprints from the steering wheels and handles. Nothing felt quite real. He was doing it, but nothing was right. The body had been heavier than he'd expected, stiff already with death and difficult to maneuver. A small, detached part of his own mind had worried that if he was seen they'd think he killed her. But most of him was unconcerned with mundane matters of police. The holes in her neck, the paleness of her skin . . . the cops had to know enough to know what that meant, didn't they?   
  


He locked the doors of the house behind him as he left, wiping his fingerprints again. He locked them not because they needed to be - who was there that needed protection, after all - but because it's what Joyce would have done. Odd, random thoughts ran through his tired brain as he plodded his slow way back to the magic box. Not all of them were his.   
  


He was pretty sure it was illegal to move a murder victim's body before the police got there.   
  


(A woman misses her husband. He'd left her for a brunette she didn't think was nearly as pretty as she was. She wishes she'd said yes when he asked her to keep the baby.)   
  


There hadn't been any blood on the carpet by Joyce's neck. Not a drop had been wasted.   
  


(A boy had forgotten to feed his fish and it had died. His father didn't know. He'd bought him a new fish. The boy didn't think he deserved it.)   
  


There was only one of the Summers woman left, and she wasn't really human.   
  


(An old woman weeps as she watches a movie she's seen a thousand times before. No one had ever loved her like they did in movies, and now it's too late. She wonders if there's anyone left who'll miss her.)   
  


There was a place somewhere, at the other end of a portal, where Buffy Summers was evil.   
  


(A man lives alone in an apartment he can barely afford. He is almost forty, and he hasn't slept for more than an hour at a time in two years. When Jerry was alive, they'd watched sunsets from the roof. When Jerry was beside him, he'd slept. He doesn't believe he'll ever really sleep again. He doubts he's ever even really awake.)   
  


A god wanted to destroy the world, and the one person who had always been there, and might have stopped it, was far away in a dozen different ways.   
  


(A woman holds her stomach and smiles at the life that moves inside. She wonders if he'll look like his father.)   
  


Xander shut his eyes and shook his head, pushing the thoughts away as waves of sadness bore down on it. Some of it his own, much of it not. He made his way toward the Magic Box, wallowing in waves of regret. There were things to be done, people to be protect . . . but at this moment, there was nothing for him to do but walk. When he got there, he would be strong and helpful. Now, he would be angry and sad and afraid.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


"Well? We're on a schedule here, you know. Don't have time to wait for you to tell us what we want to hear. I have other tied up chicks to question you know. Time's money, so spill. Or I'm likely to get testy. And when I get testy, I get violent." Faith gave the vampire her best intimidating scowl.   
  


Drusilla laughed. "You can't kill me. You need me, Silly Slayer."   
  


"Kill you, no. Torturing you I don't have a problem with. How much pain do you think you can handle before you start squealing like a pig?" Faith grinned.   
  


"Quite a lot, actually. Angelus once took a letter opener and-"   
  


"For the love of GOD please don't finish that sentence." Gunn shook his head disgustedly. Faith slanted a look at him, then turned her attention back to the vampire. "Look, we know you want to stop this from going down, alright? So why don't you cut the crap and just talk?"   
  


Drusilla stared at the young man with her eerie eyes than smiled suddenly. It was a winning, innocent expression and it churned his stomach to think something like her was capable of a smile like that. She tilted her head and blinked. "I cannot think when my hands are tied. I cannot speak when I cannot move. Too much stillness." Her smiled shifted a notch, a dark shadow drifting through her expression. "Not good for the digestion, you know." She shifted a bit in the rickety chair she'd been tied to, humming tonelessly.   
  


Gunn swore softly and Faith clutched at the stake she held, wanting nothing more than to smash it through the vampire's chest. She restrained herself, barely. "You tell us what we want to hear, and we'll ditch the ropes." She bit out.   
  


The vampire sighed. "Oh alright, though I like games best when I set the rules myself, you know. Where shall we start then?"   
  


Faith hesitated. "You - you knew what was going to happen? Buffy . . . but how much else do you know? What's happening?" She wasn't about to tell Drusilla anything she didn't already know.   
  


Dark red lips widened into a wicked grin. "Oh yeah." She drawled out in a slow, sensual tone. "I know all about it. The secrets and bad things that lurk in the night. I'll tell you, but it's like to give you nightmares, girl." Drusilla fixed her dark, unblinking gaze on Faith. "But then, you already dream, don't you? Dream of death and mistakes and people you've been. Times and murder and blood that's soaked in your skin." She shook her head. "Too bad, really. I could like you, if things were different."   
  


Faith leaned back against the wall, suddenly tired. "Tell me what you know."   
  


Drusilla blinked, sighed, and spoke. "There are days in my head that have not yet happened. Places I've never been, people I've never met . . . Since I was a little girl, I've seen the flavor of the future. Sometimes in pieces so distant I can't tell what they are till they've passed, sometimes in colors and words so clear, I cannot escape them. They've been there for as long as I can remember, and I am quite old. And then they were gone." She looked between the two of them, her eyes distant and filled with pain. "Can you imagine what that's like? All these swirling moments in your head one moment, gone the next, leaving you all alone. I do not know how to think from moment to moment, as the rest of the world does. I was meant to dwell in the in-between, where the rest of the world cannot see."   
  


She shook her head. "It was . . . welcome at first. When one is immortal, changes are welcome things. Newness sought and chased because it relieves the tedium of a life without end. But this was lonely. Suddenly I had to make my own decisions without knowing how they would affect the way of things to come. I didn't like it. I still don't. So I thought to change things back to as they had been."   
  


"That's just great. Except we have no idea what you're talking about, and we don't give a damn about your little "lost" visions. What did you see before they went? Or are you just full of -"   
  


"I tried to tell you, remember? I said it where you could hear." Drusilla interrupted Gunn, her eyes on Faith.   
  


Faith frowned and murmured. "'One to fear, one to follow.'"   
  


Drusilla nodded, smiling again. "Bet you thought you were the other one, didn't you?" She giggled softly, then sobered. "I saw the Queen, coming for the Key, who was wrapped in flesh that smelt of the Slayer-Gone-Bad. I saw her leaving with my Spike, with Daddy and others. I saw those who hid behind the house of mirrors, pulling the strings and placing the pieces, but not knowing what game was being won and lost. I saw blood and fire and the end of us all. I saw lines being erased, and worlds colliding." Her eyes were blank, as if she watched images within her own head rather than the world around her. "I saw all of that and more. And I saw that if The Key stayed wrapped, blood tucked away where the Queen cannot get it, than the rats will survive to play another day." She came back to the present and her eyes focused on Faith. "We are at war, you and I. Since the beginning we've fought, in one way or another. Vampire and Slayer, two sides of the coin. But now is not our war. Now is a war for all things. And you need me." She fell silent a moment, her voice was whisper-soft when she spoke again. "I didn't see why you'd need me. I wish I had. But you do." 

Faith thought for a long moment, surprised at Gunn's silence. Finally she asked only one question. "Who is the Queen?"   
  


Drusilla laughed. "Where she came from, they bowed at her feet and offered her sacrifices. Here, she is not known to those who do not worship demon gods."   
  


Gunn blinked and cocked his head toward Faith. "That kid you saw was right then, she is a god? As in holier-than-though, omnipotent, lightning bolts up the butt god?."   
  


Drusilla shook her head. "She is cased in a form not her own, bound by the rules of this world. She is stronger than Slayers, stronger than Vampires and demons. But she is not omnipotent. She is not invulnerable. She can be defeated. I saw that. It is why I came here. I thought at first I'd kill the Key before she could. But then I thought maybe that would just speed things up, so I stopped. Now I'm not sure."   
  


"You saw how we can take her down?"   
  


"Oh no. Just that she COULD be. You don't listen very well, do you?" Drusilla frowned at Gunn. "Naughty boy. Can you not remember your lessons?"   
  


He scowled and started to speak, but Faith cut him off with a curt gesture. "What else do you know about her? So far, you're not tellin' us anything we didn't already know, and that's not improving your life expectation."   
  


The vampire's eyes went unfocused as she struggled to remember. "Glorious destruction, death in waves. I . . . She is coming. She knows who it is, and she will find it. And then we are lost. We must play keep-away, until the time has passed. Now that she knows its form, she will be able to sense it. We cannot hide it, not for long."   
  


"IT has a name. And I didn't think hiding would be an option." Faith studied the vampire. She itched to stake her. She'd killed, destroyed, and caused pain. But something told her that Drusilla was right. They would need her. She sighed and turned to Gunn. "Let's go. She's coming with us."   
  


Gunn started to protest, then shook his head, giving in gracefully. "I'll take her."   
  


He started forward and Faith stopped him. "No." She waved him toward the car. "Go, tell Anya we're coming. I've got her." He gave her a doubtful look, but moved obediently away. Faith moved behind Drusilla, and started to untie her. "You step off the path, and I'll stake you. And if I don't manage it, then we've got a ton of other people waiting in line, not to mention a witch with some major mojo who'll fry you if you do something she don't like. I don't know what's going to happen, but I think we're on the same side, and we need all the help we can get, no matter how screwed up the source." She finished undoing the knot and stepped away as the vampire stood gracefully, long gray skirts sweeping about her legs as she stretched languidly.   
  


The vampire turned and the depths of her eyes sent a chill down Faith's spine. Suddenly, she couldn't look away. "Do you know all the things I saw for you, pretty Slayer? What fun we could have had. Perhaps we could have it still. There are worlds within this one that you've never dreamed of. Time forges new worlds constantly." She reached out and touched a pale finger to Faith's cheek, trailing it down and across the girl's lips in an oddly sisterly gesture. "I could give you life without end. I could let you see the new worlds." The finger pressed against Faith's lips to silence her when she started to speak. For some reason, the Slayer didn't jerk away. "Shhh. There's games to be played first. But remember what could be. I'd like you, if you were like me." She grinned and her hand fell away, her voice low and drawling again. "Oh yeah, the places we'd burn."   
  


Faith cleared her throat and looked away from the mesmerizing eyes. Silently, she led the way to the car, as the vampire skipped along behind her.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


"WATCH it, Willow!" Xander ducked as a volley of thick, musty smelling books whizzed by, narrowly avoiding his head.   
  


The witch turned distractedly. "What? Sorry." The books flew across the room at a wave of her hand, landing neatly in a large box beside a mass of their brethren. "Neat, huh? Beats packing the old fashioned way, though the-there are some issues with aim." She gestured toward several shards of broken glass, remnants of some object that had gotten in the way of the flying books. "Where are we going, anyway?"   
  


Xander shrugged. "Beats me. I think we're just hitting the road, trying to stay a step ahead till we get some research done. Where's Dawn, and Giles, and Cordelia?"   
  


"Dawn and Giles stayed at your apartment for a while. Cordelia took Angel's car to go get them. They'll be back any minute."   
  


Xander nodded in understanding, returning his attention to the books. "It's a good idea to get away from anyplace linked to us, since she knows who all of us are. Though how we're going to fit all the books in either car is beyond me."   
  


"Just watch." Willow murmured a few words in a low voice and the books lit into a bright blue glow. When it faded, they'd contracted somehow. They looked the same size, but they were somehow taking up only a fraction of the space within the box. Willow waved a hand again and a flurry of new books came over and plopped into the box, still barely taking up a quarter of the formerly overflowing container. "Endless Space spell. I-it's not really endless, but it makes you be able to carry like fifty times more stuff. Plus, light. Look." She lifted the box off the table seemingly without effort. "We'll need like two boxes, max. Tara taught me this spell for my bookbag . . . I was always getting sore from carrying so many books, and she . . ."   
  


Willow's face fell and Xander threw his arm around her shoulders in a tight squeeze. "She's alright Wills. She's no pushover, and she's with some strong people. They'll all be fine."   
  


Something in Willow's eyes shifted, and Xander lifted his arm away, studying her face. "She better be." The witch stated simply. Of all of them, Willow was the best at closing her mind to him. He rarely heard her thoughts unless she wanted him to. He could force his way inside, he knew, but he didn't want to do that. She'd learned to control them for his sake, she'd felt bad over his near constant headaches since his gifts manifested, but now he wished she didn't. She smiled at him, the expression not reaching her eyes. "It's okay Xander, stay out of my head."   
  


He nodded and watched as she finished bringing nearly all the books into the boxes on the counter. When she was finished, she seemed to hesitate, then made her way to ladder that lead to the top level. He frowned. He knew what was up there. He'd heard Giles tell Dawn not to go up there a hundred times. He's seen Willow look up there with that expression of curiosity she got when she wanted to learn something, too. "Wills? You really think we'll need that black arts stuff? Seems like using black magic to fight black magic might be a step in the wrong direction."   
  


Willow glanced at him, and he saw the resolve in her face. "I've read most of these books we've already packed. I know there's nothing in them to help us, or at least nothing much. I haven't read those. Those are the ones that may help. Portals are considered dangerous manifestations and are only discussed in the most powerful and rare volumes. If I'm going to find out anything about Glory's home dimension or where . . . or anything else, that's what we need."   
  


It occurred to Xander that he hadn't looked at his friend for a while, really looked at her. The bruises from her ordeal were still on her. She looked tired, sore, and sad. But there was something else there as well. He studied her. She'd been a victim, a hostage. She'd watched her lover whisked away, and was being forced to follow the orders of someone she hated. Some evil being was coming to destroy a girl who was like a younger sister to her. He saw signs of worry, of fear . . . but mostly beneath that calm surface he saw anger. He felt waves of it coming from her, well-hidden, but there. Willow wanted more than to help. Willow wanted retribution. She turned to face him and the look in his eyes stopped her. For a moment her mind opened to him, and he heard the misery, the fury, and the power. God, he'd known she was powerful, but somehow he'd forgotten, through her mind he saw the things she was capable of, the things she knew, and the lengths she could go to. "Willow I . . ." He stopped, licking his lips and shifting as he sought to find the right words. "Be careful." He finally said, the words sounding woefully inadequate.   
  


Willow smiled at him, but her eyes were hard. "She has to be stopped. I'll do what has to be done." She turned from him, and the books from the top level began to float down into the boxes below, save for one which she brought to her own hand and gripped tightly as she finished her job. 

Xander said nothing, but his eyes were filled with worry. Her turned and, from the corner of his eye, he saw the haughty gaze of Lilah Moran watching the two of them with avid interest. Even tied to a chair and gagged, she managed to look in control. He found that immensely irritating. The sound of an arriving car caught his attention and he turned, squinting through the still-dark night to see Faith stepping out of the car. A moment behind her was a tall, dark shape that he found disturbingly familiar. He cursed softly and Willow turned, to see. Her gaze grew more angry, and the hand that gripped the book went white at the knuckles. From behind her gag, Xander could almost swear Lilah was smiling.   
  


Faith, Drusilla, Anya, and Gunn entered the room, and for a moment Xander's tired mind wandered. It sounded like the start of a bad joke. "A Slayer, a vampire, and an ex-demon walk into a Magic Shop . . ." He started to ask questions, but Willow beat him to it.   
  


She was practically hissing she was so angry. "How could you bring her here? Dawn could be here any second, and that bitch-"   
  


Drusilla hissed in warning and a soft green glow lit around Willow's hand. The vampire smiled. "You run too hot, little red-witch. Careful you don't flare so high." She puckered her lips a blew a whistling breath. "Someone may blow you out."   
  


The green glow grew a bit brighter and Faith stepped in front of the vampire, her eyes on Willow. "Look, she knows stuff that may help. She doesn't want to kill Dawn. Yeah, I know she isn't a good guy. But we may need her. I don't know why, but I think we will. So just drop it, okay? When this is over, you can chase after her with a two by four for all I care. For now, let's just get the hell out of here. Where's Cordelia?"   
  


Xander answered, as Willow was nearly too furious to speak. "Getting Dawn and Giles with the other car. They'll be here soon. Dawn - she, I mean-"   
  


"I know. She shouldn't have to stare down the vamp that did her mom. No help for it now, though." Faith's voice was breezy, but Xander could hear how much she regretted that in her thoughts, and said nothing. Willow could not, and her face only tightened further. She turned without a word and grabbed a box from the counter and shoved past everyone as she took it to the car.   
  


Anya looked from the witch's departing back to the rest of them. "This is unpleasant. It's not fair that we keep having to put up with these fangless vampires all the time. Though, to be fair, Spike wasn't so bad. He even-"   
  


"My fangs are fine. No chips and electric pulses in my brain." Drusilla shifted, half snarling, half grinning. In a moment she returned to normal. "I'll show you - later. I wonder what you'll taste like. Not-a-girl, not-a-demon thing that you are."   
  


Faith spun and slammed the vampire against the wall with one hand. "I said I'd let you live. I didn't give you talking privileges. Keep it shut, or I'll sew it that way."   
  


Drusilla laughed. "Such strange bedfellows, we are. I wonder what's to come next?" She hummed again and made her way over to Lilah, squatting in front of her and whispering in tone loud enough for the other to hear. "Not even you know, little puppet-puller, do you? You think you're so clever, sitting in mirror-webs, spinning secrets and lies and schemes. Full of plans, full of hopes. But you know as little as we do, don't you?" She laughed again. "But we all must walk the paths before us, mustn't we? We do what we have to. Even when it's naughty."   
  


Xander closed his eyes and sighed as another car pulled up out front. This was not going to be fun.   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	15. Heard and Said

Author's Note: Slowly, slowly it moves, but at least it moves. Thanks to the dedicated few who continue to email me. I was going to wait and post the next chapter at the same time, but I decided to go ahead and upload this one, since I was uploading the new issue of my column anyways. With a bit of luck and some free time, the new chapter will be up in the next few weeks. Feedback, good or bad, and emails of any kind are always welcome. Thank you, those of you who stick with this series. I love this story, but somehow the time to write it seems to elude me.   
  
  
  
Part Fourteen: Heard and Said   
  
  
  
"Take care what you say before a wall, as you cannot tell who may be behind it." -- Sa'di   
  
  
  
  
  


It was amazing how fast an army could move. They had packing down to a science. Tents came down, wagons were loaded, belongings were packed and children hustled into groups within an hour. Angel had never seen a real army before - not counting the Scourge who were more like some weird militant cult. These were disciplined, and as easily mobile as nomads. The organization behind it was humbling, in a way. Back home he'd hardly been able to coordinate an attack on a nearby vamp nest without using cell phones. He and Spike were forced to keep to the shadows during the daylight, but they were given free run of the camp. They were, however, far from trusted.   
  


Their guard changed constantly, but they were always there. Silent and watching, they were sometimes armored men with swords, sometimes lithe young girls with stakes, and a few times a pair of old men with white eyes and long beards. Angel was fairly certain Katerina hadn't ordered them watched, she'd been convinced of their story. He didn't even think it was John's doing. He thought it was simply that they stood in the heart of a Slayer's army, and they were vampires.   
  


Tara and Wesley were faring better. Wesley had fallen into conversation with John and the two had last been seen staring at maps and mumbling things about "reserves" and "guerilla warfare" (which John hadn't been at all familiar with). Catherine had taken Tara to meet the other spellcasters. The girl had been nothing but gracious, but Angel had been relieved when she'd left. It was eerie, being in her presence, much more so than with Nicholas, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was simply that he saw so much of Dru in her. He knew Drusilla very well, nearly as well as Spike knew her, and Catherine echoed her in many ways. Xander he knew only as a clown, an irritating boy whom he had grown grudgingly fond of. Xander was loyal, smart, and selfless . . . but he didn't know him as he did Drusilla.   
  


Katerina and Nicholas had disappeared shortly after the story had come out. Within moments new orders were circulating through the camp, and a move was in motion. Soon there wasn't a person in camp who didn't know who the four of them were, or that they were to prepare to leave tonight. Those who had given the orders, however, were hard to find. Kat's massive stallion was still hobbled near where her tent had been, so she was here somewhere. Nicholas he thought he'd caught a glimpse of as Kat's tents were taken down; But, since then, nothing. The meeting tent was the last one up, and there were a handful of people waiting nearby to take it down as soon as the sun set. They whispered in voices they thought Angel and Spike couldn't hear as they waited, murmuring their disbelief and dislike. Angel grimaced and turned away, once again searching for Katerina in the fading light.   
  


"Off with the lot of you. You can see when the sun's sunk low 'nough to bring down the tent. There's better things to be done than stand around gaping." The high, chirping female voice startled both the vampires and their watchers. The girl, Leonie, stood staring down at their guards, small hands fisted on her hips and a fierce look on her face. Despite her youth, there was an aura of command about her that had the small group dispersing quickly at her orders. She turned to the vampires and studied them for a moment, then smiled. "I thought you were different. Sean thought me mad, but I was right." She tilted her head. "Is it true you're from another time? And that you have souls?"   
  


Angel nodded. Spike, slouching insolently beside him gave the girl a smile. "All true, pet."   
  


Leonie frowned. "Then you know what happens, do you not? You've seen the end of this war? Do we win?" It was a child's question. She accepted their story with the ease of the young, and asked the question that affected her the most.   
  


Angel winced inwardly. What should he tell her? Yes, they won then, but they might not now? Should he say he didn't know? Should he tell her that they were here to help Katerina and her army win the war? Spike answered before he could make a decision. "You win where we come from, pet. But that doesn't mean you'll win now. So you keep up with that training. Katerina needs you."   
  


It was a diplomatic answer, and Angel gave Spike a brief nod of admiration for it. Leonie's eyes narrowed, as if she suspected she was being catered to, but she said nothing. Instead her eyes flicked upwards and then focused on them once again. "Sun is almost set." She told them. "But then I supposed you already know that. You can feel when the sun sets and rises, can you not? As Katerina can?"   
  


Angel nodded. "Most of the time."   
  


Leonie turned to them, her expression somber. "I'm glad you're not like the other vampires. Sean speaks in circles and thumbs through books John hands him. They both blather on and on about prophecies and ancient wars." She shook her head, suddenly looking older, though the hope remained in her expression. "They fear an alliance with vampires, they fear magic from another time - they fear everything. I've heard them whisper, when they think I'm not listening. They are afraid of Twilight because she is a vampire. They are afraid of you for the same reason. They say for us to ally with you is unnatural, and for Twilight to use that side of her own power is the same." She met Angel's eyes. "But they do not fight beside Twilight, as I do. They are not born a Slayer. I am. We are born to protect. Had the Council been given free rein, I would be no better than a slave - ordered and worked until I died unmourned and unremembered. This is our last hope of changing the world. I care not whether aide comes from men, from vampires, from demons, or from beasts - so long as it comes. You are here to help. I believe that, so does Twilight and Nicholas. You'll not hear this again, so I hope it's enough, but thank you, and you are welcome here."   
  


Leonie gave them a wide, wry smile. There was little of the child in her now, she was a woman who knew death, and was unafraid of it. "Of course if it turns out your lying, I'll stake you myself." She offered with a grin, suddenly slipping back into the mold of the vivacious but fierce child they'd already met. The girl left as quickly as she'd come, taking the last edges of daylight with her.   
  


Spike blinked. "Well, doesn't that just beat all?"   
  


Angel shook his head. "Just about." He glanced at Spike. "Want to help take down the tent?"   
  


The blond vampire snorted. "Not likely. Let the gawking masses take it down. I've better things to do."   
  


"Like what?" Angel scowled.   
  


Spike shrugged. "Like anything. None of your bloody business." He glanced upwards warily, then shrugged and strode out from beneath the shade of the tent. He sizzled faintly as he walked, but no flames leaped up to singe his head, so Angel shrugged and turned to begin taking the tent down. Gradually their former guards drifted back over to help. He was surprised, until he turned to see Leonie standing a ways away, arms folded over her slight bosom as she glared at them, obviously telling them to help. Angel smiled. She reminded him of another young blonde he'd met, a while back.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


He was a bloody vampire. He could hear the wind through the trees, the guards in their outposts - so why in the hell couldn't he pick out the one voice he was searching for? Stubborn witch was hiding from them, he was sure of it. When he found her, he'd-   
  


It tweaked his ear suddenly and he spun, searching for the sound and heading toward it out of instinct. He moved silently, wondering why he was bothering - Katerina was hard as hell to sneak up on, after all. She was, however, distracted. Spike was disgusted with himself for the brief moment of guilt he felt over listening in on the conversation going on in the trees just ahead. He got over it quickly and snuck further forward. Around the boles of the trees he could just make out their faces as they argued.   
  


Silver eyes clashed with green. They stood not far apart, but there were miles between them. Their stances were almost identical, arms held stiff at their sides, chins back and feet spread apart. Neither one of them thought of it just now, but these were one of only two pairs of eyes that would meet the silver gaze anymore. Hers was the first voice he heard. "You overstep your bounds, Nicholas. This is not your army to command."   
  


"It's no longer yours, either! They've found a way to counter you, Katerina. No one is saying that you are incapable, even those who hail from . . . . well, even they claim that you won the war where they come from. We would follow you, had this not happened, and we'd have been glad of it. But now there is nothing but your pride and stubbornness demanding you lead! It will lead to the downfall of this army, and the defeat of our cause!"   
  


"You accuse me of pride? I've set aside everything for this cause, you think I'd ruin it out of something as foolish as vanity? You think so little of me, Nicholas?"   
  


His voice softened a bit, his eyes looking away for a split second. "You know that's not it. You cannot see. You are blinded by your own goals. This . . . Buffy . . . she knows your mind. She knows what you did, and what backup plans ran through your mind. It's possible you could think of something she cannot, but it's a risk."   
  


Her voice was low and deceptively calm. The steel in her tone sent a shudder down Spike's spin. Nicholas showed no reaction. "What do you suggest I do then, Nicholas?"   
  


"Surrender command."   
  


He would have gone on, but she spoke first. "To whom, Nicholas? John, whose head is buried in books and pales at the smell of blood? Catherine, who sees what is to come, but cannot comprehend what is happening right in front of her? Leonie, who is barely older than a child? Or to you perhaps, who sits and ponders and cannot decide until it's too late, and there is no more choice to make? You who goes behind my back, and helps the magic wielders to alert the Council to our whereabouts? You who question my every move, and watches me like a hawk? You who's forgotten who it was that kept you and the rest safe from the Guild's hounds? They would have sniffed you out in hours without my help. Are those my choices Nicholas? Counsel me, dear friend, for I cannot choose between such titans." Spike watched her face with unblinking eyes. He'd never seen her like this. Her face was carved of stone, and her unnatural eyes burned with anger. She'd never looked more beautiful - or less human. She was utterly unforgiving and the aura of absolute command shone around her in a sort of intangible glow, warning against gainsaying her. It worried him.   
  


"Counsel, you ask me for? You, who listen to no one but yourself? You call me friend as if we were. As if we were anything more than familiar strangers, and allies, now!" His lips were white with anger, his fists clenching and unclenching; but there was something else in his eyes, something like realization and disappointment rolled into one. Spike had seen Xander angry more times than he'd seen him anything else. At this moment, it was easy to see shades of one another in them.   
  


She looked taken aback for a moment, though not quite surprised. Spike was beginning to realize that he hadn't known her as well as he thought, but he thought she looked more surprised that he'd said it aloud. "There was a time you would have said differently." She left a great deal unsaid, but it was in the way she held her head, the shifting weight and searching eyes. "Once, you would have said you loved me." She accused him without words.   
  


"I was younger then, and ready to believe what I wanted to believe, instead of the truth." He hesitated, then barged on. "And you're not the same as you were then, either. You do what's right - what you believe is best. You fight for those who share your cause, but ultimately you do it for the wrong reasons. You lost sight of your purpose long ago. You fight to win now, not to change the way things are. Once I looked at you as someone who risked everything to fight, and somehow managed to remain true. Now I understand that I was wrong. That I made you into something you're not, and that you play a role you don't truly feel. Only now you don't even pretend so much anymore. Do you even remember how?"   
  


She stiffened, her whole body carved of ivory now, no breath marring the stillness of her. "I remember what I've always remembered, and do as I've always done."   
  


"Not even you believe that, Twilight. Your purpose makes you different - it makes you not a true demon, and no one doubts that. We see with our own eyes that you are not as they are - that you do not possess their fury, bloodlust, or callousness; but you are not human, and each day that passes you're less so. Maybe there was never humanity there, maybe you feigned it, and I found it because I wanted to. Maybe when you gave up your soul, you kept only enough to keep you from true evil. Perhaps you never had a true soul to began with, and that is why you were Chosen - because you never had the heart, the emotions, or the soul of a real woman. Born to be a Slayer and a Champion - but never a person - never a mother, a lover, a friend, or a wife." A soft sound came from somewhere to Spike's left. He turned to look and saw John, his face grim, watching from behind the protection of a tree. He scowled. The fool was making enough noise to wake the dead. Kat was sure to notice, and then she'd notice Spike as well, and THAT didn't bear thinking about. She'd never been keen on eavesdropping, unless it was her idea.   
  


She didn't move, but there was something very like hopelessness in her voice. Nicholas didn't seem to hear it, and it took all of Spike's willpower not to leap out and strangle the arrogant bastard. When she spoke, it was with the detachment he'd seen so often since their trip back here - even her despair was inhuman and empty sounding. "You speak of things you cannot understand. You don't know what it is to be a Slayer or a vampire. I never pretended to be anything other than what I was. You looked at me with the eyes of a mooning boy, and made me into some fantasy you wanted to love. When you realized your own folly, you blamed it on me - on my shortcomings. You wanted something I could never be, and something I could never give. That isn't my fault." There was no anger in her anymore, there was just a blank nothingness, and a faint tinge of regret. "There have been times I wished I could be what you wanted, though you will not believe that." She told him quietly, her gaze even. He looked away, and the anger was still there, bubbling at his surface and flowing through his veins. Spike could smell it on him - Nicholas wanted to hate her at this moment. He longed to hate her almost as much as he wanted to love her. She smiled without any true warmth. "We move in an hour. Tell them we leave for the abandoned ruins to the south of Denhurn. Its current occupants have agreed to leave it to us for the time being."   
  


He turned back to meet her gaze, and the smile he gave her was edged, affectionate, bitter, pained, and sad all at one time. "I'll follow you, I'll serve, and I'll fight. I'll stand behind you - only further back." He paused a minute, his smile going crooked in a way that was irritatingly familiar to Spike. "But I won't give them orders that may doom us all. You can do it yourself."   
  


She moved forward and reached up with long, pale fingers to ruffle his hair in an oddly affectionate gesture. "I will. I have no choice."   
  


"Yes, you do. You just refuse to make use of it, but go. It will be better coming from you. Sit astride the stallion, leave the mare to one of the others. They take orders best when you're - " 

"I know. Be Twilight, not Katerina. What is Katerina but a vampire and a woman? Twilight is a warrior, a Slayer, a vampire, a leader. Wear the mask and ride the idiotic horse and be what they expect of me." A humorless smile quirked the corner of her lips as she struck a faux heroic pose. "I play to the crowds then, as any performer must."   
  


The bitterness in her tone was there in Nicholas' as well. "It's what you do best, after all. Part of your calling, even. You created yourself to be Twilight - don't blame them for expecting her to make an appearance."   
  


"I never created her. If that is all I am, then I am a product of my purpose, my life, and those who raised me - in good and ill. But I cannot blame them for handing me the mask - without it, I am just a killer with a cause, am I not?" Katerina shrugged and walked away, not waiting for Nicholas to respond. She passed within feet of where Spike stood without once glancing his way. Despite the lack of acknowledgment, he had the guilty feeling she knew he was there.   
  


Nicholas watched her go, then turned his head and looked toward Spike. The vampire tried to remember the rubbish he'd been told about blocking his thoughts, belatedly remembering that he didn't have to - Nicholas couldn't read a vampire's thoughts the way Xander could. The man's gaze passed over him and settled to his left. "Taken to eavesdropping have we, John? Not the most dignified of activities for a man of your education."   
  


"I rarely concern myself with matters of dignity." John stepped out from his hiding place and stood beside his friend. The differences in the two were obvious, now - though neither were born warriors there was a toughness in Nicholas that John lacked. Lifetimes from now, Nicholas may be Xander Harris, but at this moment he reminded the vampire more of Giles. Both were probably more at home with books than with weapons - but when the time came for fighting they would make do, and get the job done. John was softer - his movements slower and more awkward, his dark gaze more distant and concerned with matters less immediate and visceral. Spike has seen his type a thousand times - in his time John would be a spoiled college boy, pocket protectors and math classes and all.   
  


It was difficult to judge which was the elder of the two - both were older than Spike when he'd been turned, he'd wager. He'd judge Nicholas the elder by a smidge, maybe - it would explain why he fell into a leadership position so easily - it was obvious the stupid wanker hadn't earned it. John looked up at Nicholas, who topped him by several inches, with the expression of a man who had to say something, but didn't want to. Spike waited, his guilt at listening-in having conveniently evaporated with Katerina's departure. What did he care what these two thought? John licked his lips and blurted it out. "You're doing wrong by her, Nicholas."   
  


The man smirked. "Oh really? Please, do tell me how." The tone was so utterly like Xander's that Spike felt the urge to strange him on principal. He settled for silently cursing him and vaguely hoping the man could hear his thoughts as he did - some of them were fairly creative.   
  


John scowled. "You know what you do, and there's more than I can - or will - say, as it's between the two of you. But this . . . pushing you do with her. You shove her onto that horse and force her to be Twilight only - to parade her own inhumanity in front of them as a show of strength. It's wrong."   
  


Nicholas shook his head. "They need something like her - a figurehead. She's what brings us allies. We cannot offer pay, or reassure them with our numbers as the Council can. The reason they join is because they put their faith in The Eternal Twilight. Without her at the head of our army - on a black stallion, her pale skin reflecting the sun to remind them what she is - without that we are NOTHING. We are vigilantes fighting a losing war. It is no great effort for her, and it is our strength."   
  


"You are setting her apart, making her separate and alone."   
  


Nicholas looked away. "She does that to herself. Besides, maybe that is for the best."   
  


John's mouth pulled into a thin white line. "It is destroying her, and pushing her ever further toward the edge of the razor she walks. Don't tell me you can't see that - I just heard you accuse her of it! Can you not see that you are helping? That this farce is part of the reason she is becoming what she is? Can you not see for every gaze that stares at her and sees only the Slayer-turned vampire, she loses a touch of what made her human?"   
  


The bitterness was back, sharp and tinged with anger and regret. "Perhaps that is as it should be, too. Perhaps it makes her better for things she must do."   
  


The other man sucked in a short, sharp breath, his eyes widening. "She leads us. We follow where she goes, and should we win there is not a man, woman, or demon in this army that will not call her their leader. But if she loses all vestiges of her humanity, then she will be no better than the Council. They gave up their own humanity in pursuit of power long ago, or what mattered of it at any rate; Kat's is being stripped away piece by piece by you and others like you. How is that not obvious to you?" Nicholas said nothing, and John's voice lowered, his tone tinged with guilt as if he were ashamed for revealing secrets. "Do you know where she was, when the spell was cast?"   
  


Nicholas shrugged, his shoulders hunching into a defensive posture. "Scouting."   
  


John shook his head. "Nay. She goes to the abandoned ruins outside Denhern - where the Master and his family have their lair."   
  


Instant fury blossomed across Nicholas' features. "Damn her for a fool! How can she go there, and now bring us there? She -"   
  


"Do you never tire of the sound of your own voice? Close your mouth and listen for once - something I think you may have forgotten how to do in recent days, just as you've forgotten to smile, to laugh, and to open your goddamned eyes and look at what's going on around you. NO! LISTEN to me for once. Your first instinct was to condemn her - and don't think I didn't see the suspicion in your eyes when I told you as well. Did you even for a moment stop to wonder why she would do such a thing? You've pushed and prodded, and then turned away from her. She has become the centerpiece of a show - there is no one left who looks at her as human. Always, she must be Twilight now, even in her own camp. Every fiber of her being hates The Master - yet there is the ONLY place she can be herself, and be at ease. His minions would never attack her without his order, and he would never give it."   
  


"Because she is his favored childe - which defies all logic. You rail at me for speaking the truth. It is a useless, selfish, and foolish risk for her to take. You fill in reasons for her actions that you cannot be certain are true. You ascribe more emotion to her than she warrants anymore. Perhaps she simply has some beast-born need to be with her own kind; and yes, I damn her for risking herself, and the faith her people have in her, for such things!"   
  


There was a bleakness in John's eyes, as if he despaired of Nicholas bending from his own staunch beliefs. But he continued nonetheless, his voice quiet now. "She does not need your disapproval Nicholas. She needs your-"   
  


"She needs NO ONE and NOTHING save vengeance and triumph. She does not know what sympathy, despair, friendship or lo - She knows nothing of emotions." He stumbled over the word he stopped himself from saying, but he saw in John's face that the other man had heard. He hurried on. "Perhaps once she had some idea, but she has long since forgotten. All she knows now is loyalty to her cause, and hatred for the Council. When this is over, she will be nothing."   
  


"I do not believe that - I cannot." John's voice was heavy with condemnation. "Damn you Nicholas for your narrow minded ways. You call her selfish, but it is YOU who cannot look beyond your own interests. Even you do not believe the tripe you spout. You speak from bitterness, from jealousy, not from any righteous stance."   
  


"What have I to be jealous of, John? I've Catherine, and stand at Katerina's right hand. There is no envy in me."   
  


"Catherine is your convenience. The love you bear her is born of your childhood bond and your own loneliness. She is a replacement for the woman you can't have."   
  


Nicholas hissed he was so angry. "What do you know of love? I LOVE Catherine. She needs me, as Katerina never could. She is good, loving, kind, and patient - everything Katerina is not. In her arms, I am needed. I am the touchstone that anchors her wandering mind to this reality. And it is an honor. What I felt for Katerina was nothing but a foolish boyhood dream."   
  


"Aye, she needs you. But you fool yourself if you think Catherine needs ONLY you. Hers is a heart that could fall in love easily. She loves you - of that I have no doubt. But anyone could serve as her anchor - she is simple and open to love in any form. And you, who so desperately needs to be needed, cannot see that it is Katerina who needs you the most." John shook his head and looked imploringly at his friend. "You are her touchstone as well - the reflection of her humanity. Every time you turn from her she loses another finger of her tenuous grip. Once you made her laugh, as you did all of us. You were her reflection. When she was with you, she believed that she was still some part of herself because you saw something to love in her. She never meant for your love to turn to something else, and I don't doubt that she regrets it. Perhaps she even returns it, in some way. But she cannot stand the coldness you show her now. She needs you Nicholas - though she may not know it and would never ask for your help."   
  


John glanced toward the disassembled camp for a moment and sighed as he watched the distant figures moving about. "Kat can never be what you wanted - we all know that. But she can be more than this, Nicholas. Catherine could find another and be happy. Katerina never will."   
  


The anger had flashed in waves across Nicholas face throughout John's speech. Uncertainty and guilt flickered in his eyes. Anger was easier, quicker, and more familiar, so it was anger that returned, his tone nasty. "And who else could Catherine find, John? You? The learned scholar emerging from behind his tower of books to comfort the heartsick seer, whose lover left her for a vampire witch? Such a pretty tale that would be, would it not?" A sneer curled his full lips upward. "But not a likely one, I suppose. You'd be more happy to comfort me than Catherine, wouldn't you old friend? Women - even the lovely Catherine - hold little interest for you." John staggered back as if Nicholas had physically struck him, his face falling and flushing red as a sunset. The sneer faded from Nicholas' lips, and a look of deep shame filled his expression. "Ah, John. I'm sorry - you know. I mean. Oh damn me, and everything else. I'm not worthy of forgiveness." He shook his head and gave a wan, crooked smile that was completely inappropriate before suddenly turning and leaving.   
  


John remained for a long moment, his eyes staring at the leave-strewn ground. Finally he too left. Spike watched him go, then stretched languidly. His eyes settled on a nearby squirrel, who sat atop a tree branch, chittering softly. "Well now, that was a bit tense, wasn't it?" The squirrel's small head nodded, which Spike decided was as decisive an agreement as he was likely to get. He shrugged and fumbled in his jacket once again for the cigarettes that weren't there. A long-suffering sigh escaped and he looked at the squirrel. "Just goes to show you, reincarnation doesn't stop you from being a self-righteous little git."   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


They hadn't wanted his help. They hadn't said anything, but Angel could tell that they resented his presence as their practiced hands pulled down tent poles and folded nubby tent walls. Only the irrepressible and changeable Leonie had smiled at him, but her presence was quickly required somewhere else. He found himself missing her when she was gone - she was a rare light in this bleak place.   
  


He sighed and looked around, uncertain of what he should do. He'd seen people circulating, final preparations being made - it was easy to tell that they were preparing to move. No one had seen fit to tell him though, and he was left uneasy with nothing to do. He supposed he should find Spike - or Wesley maybe. See if they knew what was going on. Not that he was eager to see Spike again - knowing the younger vampire, he was probably well on his way to getting staked, Katerina's orders or no.   
  


"We move in an hour - by Katerina's order." The soft voice came from behind him, startling him. He spun around on his heel, body automatically settling into a defensive posture. But the woman facing him just smiled. "I thought people might have hesitated to tell you themselves."   
  


Angel relaxed, sighing slightly. "I figured it out on my own."   
  


"Still, better to be told. Wouldn't want you to think us rude." Catherine glanced around. "But where is your friend?"   
  


Angel grunted slightly at the word "friend". "Not sure. He wandered away when the sun went down. He's hard to pin in one place."   
  


"Hmmm . . . yes. I'd thought as much. There are restless stars in his eyes." She tilted her head slightly. "Your friend Tara - she knows many things we don't, though she says she is not very strong where you come from. Are the magic wielders so powerful in your time?"   
  


Angel thought of Willow - first as the shyly faltering young girl he'd known before, and then as she was now. "Some are. But I think she probably underestimates herself."   
  


"Yes. I think so too. She doubts her own abilities." A shadow flitted over her face. "Perhaps you should have arrived yesterday." He looked away - the darker emotions brought her closer to Drusilla. It confused him, the way he felt around her. His avoidance did not go unnoticed. "It troubles you doesn't it, being with me?"   
  


He jerked his head back toward her. "It's not you. I - "   
  


"You know me well in your time, don't you? The other - Spike - he does as well. I see it when you look at me. You don't really see me, you see someone else." She frowned. "Something else, maybe." Perceptive ice blue eyes bored into him. "Yes, that is what Sean said, isn't it?"   
  


Angel was lost for words for a long moment. Finally, he settled for simplicity - usually his best option. "Yes."   
  


Pale blue eyes drifted past him to stare unseeingly out at the night. "She will be like me - she will see what has not yet come to pass, will she not?" A ghost of sorrow settled over her slim shoulders. "It would be nice to know another who sees ahead. It is a lonely thing, distant and unnerving. So often I forget what is real, what is now and what is then, and what might not be. No man was meant to see their own future. These days I see things that may come to pass for those I know . . . it is an unwelcome gift." She shrugged elegantly. "Still, I expect I'd not like to know her. She was a true vampire, no? Evil and murderous, you must have hated her."   
  


If he'd had a heartbeat, he would have felt fingers of ice crushing it to a halt. "I couldn't hate her."   
  


She watched him with eyes that seemed without end. He remembered Drusilla's magnetic gaze, her low voice, and innate ability to hypnotize. Catherine may not have it, but the vestiges of power were already there. He could feel it. "Why not? You hate other vampires, do you not? Tara said the other, Spike I believe it was, and you have hated one another at times. She said you hunt your own kind."   
  


"I couldn't hate her. I . . . made her." Suddenly a fire lit within Angel. Here was his chance to beg forgiveness from Drusilla. How often he'd lain awake and regretted what he'd turned her into. Now he could confess to the woman she'd been. "Catherine, please, I have to. I mean. What I do - Not me now, but the me I was before. Not now before but later-before -"   
  


"Shhh. You are confusing me, Angel." She said his name the same way. A soft lingering around the first syllable. Aanngel. Aanngelus.   
  


"I have to tell you I'm sorry. You - the later you, when you are Drusilla. I hunted you, and -"   
  


"I cannot hear this!" Catherine raised her hands to her ears and spun. For a moment, in the growing darkness with her hair hidden by the sleeves of her top, she looked like Drusilla, spinning in some mad dance. She turned back and lowered her hands, and as quickly as that she was herself again. She smiled gently, and Angel was struck by her bravery. There was a courage in her gaze that he never remembered seeing in Drusilla's, even before he'd turned her. "Do not apologize to me for what you've not done to me. She is not me. Not truly. I see things that no one blessed with earthly eyes should see. What could be, what will be, what may be, what must not be - at one time or another all of them dance before my eyes and flash through my mind. I've no desire to know more than that. We each must serve our purpose. Perhaps it is the purpose of the woman I will be those many years hence to serve as the villain and the victim. So be it. I do not wish to know."   
  


Angel looked at her, and for the first time he saw her as she truly was, and not as some ghost of Drusilla. The eeriness and urgency faded, and he nodded at her. "Okay. I'm sorry."   
  


She smiled, gentle and understanding. "Don't be. It is alright."   
  


An awkward silence fell between them. Sorrow still hung gently around her, though she did not speak of it. She fidgeted slightly, unable to abide the still quiet. He smiled faintly. "I like your dress." He offered quietly, wincing at the inanity of the topic.   
  


Her mood shifted with mercurial swiftness. She smiled brilliantly, like a flash of sunlight, and laughed - girlish and squealing. She twirled once, making her skirts flare out. "You really like it? I made it myself."   
  


He nodded. "I do."   
  


"Thank you." Her blonde head turned, braid swinging out behind. "I should see that Nicholas is packed - he's terribly scatterbrained about things like that." She grinned. "Don't let them leave you behind, Angel. I'll check to be sure you're with us later."   
  


He watched her walk away with long, unhurried steps. Once again he was left alone, and wondering what to do with himself. He walked for a moment, tired of standing still. There was a breeze drifting through the tree-guarded valley the camp had been housed in. It brought the scent of men, horses, dirt and sky to his nostrils. It was a familiar scent - one he'd forgotten had once been so commonplace it was nearly unnoticeable. Now it was invigorating and refreshing. He wondered if it was a crime to enjoy being outside in this place when there were so many grim reasons he was here.   
  


A faint noise caught his keen ears. He turned toward it, cocking his head to listen. It sounded like voices - distant enough to be unrecognizable, but familiar nonetheless. He moved toward the trees the sound came from, frowning as he failed to place the sounds. He hesitated at the edge of the denser trees, glancing back over his shoulder at the camp that showed no notice of his departure. He shrugged and pushed his way deeper. The sound was louder now, and he knew the voice well enough. His back tensed and his hands fisted. Buffy.   
  


But then he paused in confusion as it became Katerina - not Kat as she was now but Katerina as she'd been in Sunnydale. Then it shifted again and he heard the unmistakable cadences of his sire's voice. Darla? He barged forward, not noticing the path that opened beneath his feet, or the trees that closed behind his back.   
  


In moments the trees opened onto a meadow lit by moonlight almost as bright as the sun. An old but well-made hut sat in its center. An old woman perched on a crooked bench beside the hut's small garden. He knew he'd never met her, but she was familiar nonetheless. Everything was familiar here. It was as if he'd seen or heard of it somewhere before. There was an aura of power around the woman, and he approached her warily. She looked up at him with neither a smile nor a frown of welcome. The voices he'd heard were gone, but he knew they'd done their job. He'd been led here, there was no doubt of that in his mind. "Who are you?" He demanded without preamble.   
  


She stared at him, and a slow smile spread over her lips. "I could say we've met, but then we haven't and have, so it is true either way. As I am now, we merely share a mutual friend, Angelus." He cringed inwardly at the name. "A better question would be why I brought you here."   
  


"Fine. Then answer both, why don't you."   
  


"Think Angelus. Where have you heard of a hut that dwelled between worlds and an old woman of great power? Perhaps in some story you've heard? On the lips of some Slayer? Granted for you the Slayers to choose from are in unusual quantity. But still, you've only truly known three. It should be easy enough to figure out."   
  


Angel looked around and turned in a slow circle. The place he'd come from was indistinguishable from the rest of the thick tangle of surrounding trees. The meadow was a green paradise in the middle of a dense forest. He was not where he'd been. He turned back to the woman and spoke slowly, wonderingly. "You're Aggie?"   
  


She nodded. "In a manner of speaking. Very good. I figured it'd take you a few more guesses. You can be a bit dense when you want to be, you know."   
  


"What do you want?"   
  


"Always direct. That's your way, isn't it? When you have a soul, anyway. Without it you like to play, to circle things more. Angel lacks Angelus's imagination, really. Wonder why that is? No matter. I'm here to talk to you."   
  


Angel studied her. She looked just as Kat had shown her - down to the last wrinkle. "You should be older."   
  


She grinned. "And you shouldn't be here at all. So let's not quibble over ages."   
  


He grunted slightly. "Why do you want to talk to me?"   
  


"Because I can. Not usually an option I have to do on my own. Free will doesn't come with my job the way it does for you demons and humans. I always know what I have to do. Guess there's a first time for everything."   
  


Angel bit his lip, frustration rapidly rising. "You're here because you don't know what to do? What are you SUPPOSED to do? What do you want from me? And where are we?"   
  


She shrugged. "We're in an in-between. There are endless numbers of them. This is one I've used before. Time has no meaning here. Or at least no meaning in relation to your world. As for what I want from you-" The old woman tilted her head. "I don't want anything - I'm not capable of it. Oh I do a good mock-up of the human condition. Better than the one who sent you back here at least."   
  


"You know Prisca?"   
  


"I know of her. Same way she knows of me. You exist for as long as I have, you get to know the residents that have been around the longest. And Prisca outlasts 'em all. Not the way you met her of course - having an actual human-esque form is fairly new for her on a cosmic scale."   
  


Angel sighed. Had she been anyone else, he'd have resorted to manhandling and threats right now out of sheer frustration. But he knew that with this one it'd do no good. "What ARE you?"   
  


"I'm the thing that's built your life sweetheart. I'm the one that deems where you go, and I serve the ultimate master."   
  


He started at her with angry eyes. "The Powers That Be?"   
  


"Hell no. The Balance." She chuckled. "'The Powers That Be' - you guys crack me up. Talk about pretentious bullshit names for something you just aren't savvy enough to understand."   
  


Angel's hands clenched into fists. "You don't sound like Kat said Aggie did."   
  


"I can sound like anything. Be anything. You want a free sample? A show? We got all the time in the world - you wanna see what I've been to you, Angel boy?" The form she wore shimmered slightly, then disappeared. In its place was a young, weak looking vampire who seemed vaguely familiar. "Not ringing a bell? Once, a vampire with this face accidentally let slip the location of the Codex. You remember now?" He didn't recall the face well - but the whiny, grasping voice was familiar. She didn't give him time to answer, shimmering and changing again. Now there stood a form that haunted his dreams. Dark hair, dusky skin. She spoke in the tongue of the Romany - but he understood. "This one you recognize? I only wore this form long enough to entice your Sire toward the place where its true owner was. So you see . . . . I gave you your soul, in a manner of speaking." The gypsy girl smiled at him, and he remembered the way she'd tasted. Then she was gone, and another stood in her place, then another, and another. They flashed before him in a dizzying array. A scant few he recognized - most of them he didn't.   
  


"Stop!" He finally croaked out, hands reaching forward to grasp the figure's shoulders. Abruptly it halted, and his hands held the frail, bent shoulders of an old woman again. "Tell me what you want!" He commanded harshly.   
  


"Or you'll what?" She chuckled. "You've been in playgrounds where you weren't the biggest boy around before, haven't you Angel? Consider this one of them. I can't do anything to you - not directly anyway - but you can't lay a finger on me, either. Let's call it a stalemate." She looked at Angel's furious face and sighed. "Fine, how 'bout a gimme? A gesture of good faith on my part, to break the ice. Ask me a question. Any question. I'll answer."   
  


Angel thought a moment. "Who and what are you?"   
  


"Cheater. That's two. But I'll answer both, since there's only one response anyway." She settled more comfortably and spoke in a way that sounded not so much like an explanation as a story. "The oldest things have no name, no personalities, no true existence. Prisca - she is one of the oldest. She had no name, no form, no consciousness. That developed over time, which is a paradox in itself, as there is no true time where she is. She is the between - like this place. Sentient powers - gods, Oracles, demons - these all came much later. But before everything was The Balance."   
  


She paused for a long moment, her lips pursed in thought. "The Balance has no allies, no affiliations, no enemies. It has no true consciousness - yet it knows everything. It is the basis for all worlds. As the more recent beings started crashing the party, The Balance became unstable. So I came into being. Good and evil doesn't have as much meaning as you think it does - but for the record I serve neither. I serve The Balance. I am a million places at once, and wear countless numbers of faces. I have a hand in a billion cookie jars - even yours. ESPECIALLY yours. You do after all, come from a core world."   
  


Aggie met his eyes with a cold, steady gaze that was just as inhuman - though less unearthly - then Prisca's had been. "I've altered, guided, and manipulated your life and the lives of those around you in ways you can't even imagine. All in service of The Balance. I once saw to it that a Watcher fell afoul of a Boonagath demon, so that he could live again in that demon's form, through an ancient spell I ensured was found at the right time, by the right people." She tilted her head suddenly, her tone turning edged and inquiring. "Whom do you serve?"   
  


"I . . I don't serve anyone. I help people. Try to do -"   
  


"Good." Aggie finished wryly. "Why? Do you work toward repentance? Toward forgiveness? Toward purification and atonement?" Aggie snorted rudely. "Good is a fallacy. At the heart of the universe there exists only two things - Order and Chaos. You are in the unfortunate position of being a favored plaything for both sides. You and the rest of your little friends. Including the Slayer you chased back here. Good, Evil - these are mortal inventions. And by mortal, I mean 'being'. Could have been invented by something you call a god too - I never bothered to check. Been busy. You're all the same to me, in the end."   
  


"I make a difference! We all do. The world would have -"   
  


"Ended?" Aggie sighed. "No it wouldn't have. YOUR world would have ended. There would still have been a world, just not the one you're so attached to. You didn't save the world. You saved your world. An admirable thing itself, if you care about that stuff." Aggie shrugged. "Believe me, I've seen worlds come and go. No one cares about it except for the poor bastards that live there." She shrugged. "Truth hurts big guy."   
  


There was anger in his face. "You don't understand. You can't. I serve the right side. I serve the innocent people. I help the helpless and -"   
  


"Save the self-promotion. I'm not someone who needs to be converted. Let me paint a little picture for you. Imagine a world ruled by Chaos. Shouldn't be too hard - you've been to a Hell dimension, right? Anarchy, flame, destruction, pretty standard stuff. Now imagine you and the rest of your little angst-army achieve your goal. You stomp out the bad guys and win a rousing victory for Right and Order. Now think of the world. A world where rules are never disobeyed, and nothing is done without reason. Imagine a place of sterility and cold. Imagine an Ordered existence in every sense of the world." She locked her gaze with his and he couldn't look away. "You try to walk this simple black and white path, but it can't be done. There's no such thing as right and wrong, good and bad. There's The Balance." She smiled slightly. "I serve The Balance, and in the end, so do you vampire."   
  


She gave a broad, aimless gesture. "So who am I? I'm the ultimate equalizer. And what am I? Anything and anyone I need to be. What do you think, Angel? That answer your question?"   
  


He sighed slowly, reaching up to muss his hair with one big hand in an aggravated motion. "I think I asked the wrong question." He replied shortly.   
  


She snorted in laughter. "Your kind usually does. Never knows what's best for them. It's a species wide failing. Now, tell me what you should have asked in the first place."   
  


He glared at her. "Why are you here talking to me now?"   
  


"Because I need help. The Balance ain't in a healthy state, in case you haven't noticed. I haven't been working all these . . . well eons would be an understatement. Anyway, I haven't been working all that time to let it all go to shit now. I can't interfere in this one - not directly. The cards are stacked as high as I can build them. It's all your game now. You're my only hope, Obi Won." She cracked a grin at her own wit as she continued. "There's things that are set in stone - even now. You've got a big career, aside from this whole fiasco. Your ultimate purpose hasn't been fulfilled. You've a choice how it'll go down of course, but we know you're not done." She paused significantly. "Other people have fulfilled their purpose. Other people shouldn't survive this, no matter what happens."   
  


He went still, his mind churning. Names and faces leapt behind his eyes. Finally he answered, wondering how he knew. "Buffy."   
  


"Got it in one. The blonde's done more than most Slayers. If things had gone right . . . well she was due for a splashy ending pretty soon. No matter how things play out, it's pretty much a given that she'll be out for the count when it's done."   
  


He laughed bitterly. "You're offering me a trade. I do what you want, you make Buffy human again."   
  


"Hell no. I can't make her human. That'd be too much of a push on the Balance. That ball's definitely in your court. No I - or those I represent I suppose - will simply make sure there's future options for her. Meaning she's not doomed. Take it or leave it big guy."   
  


Angel was lost. Information and events had been pummeling him with such speed, he almost hadn't had time to breath, not that he needed to. He was tired, confused, angry, sad, and a thousand other emotions that defied description. Buffy was evil. Spike was a pain in the ass who now had a soul. Nicholas was Xander, Drusilla was Catherine, and Katerina was nearly a stranger. Now this woman, no this creature, was offering him a deal. "Why are they offering me a reward for something I would have done anyway? That's not their usual style."   
  


Aggie smiled. "Because they can. Believe it or not, the Masters of the Universe aren't all unfeeling uberbeings. Some of them think you got a raw deal. They packaged it as a deal, but really you can consider it a gift."   
  


He shook his head. "How is handing an evil, soulless Buffy back to us a gift? She'd be better off dead."   
  


"You don't know everything big guy. Don't rule out all the options. Maybe it'll all end up well, with hearts and rainbows and puppies - or maybe not. Even I can't say, and I wouldn't even if I could, in case you were wondering."   
  


"I really don't have the option of turning this down, do I?"   
  


"Not really. But things go down better with a spoonful of sugar, baby. And didn't it make you feel important, thinking you had a choice in the matter?" Aggie gave a cheeky grin that reminded him, irritating enough, of Spike when he was being particularly provoking.   
  


"Not really." He glared. "So now you puff off in a mysterious blast of smoke and leave me lost in the trees?"   
  


"Do I really look like a walking cliche?" The old woman shook her head with a spry energy that defied the years it looked like she'd weathered. She stood and pinched his cheek in an irritating, old-lady like gesture. "I'll see you again, Angel. You won't know me, but I'll know you. Who knows what face I'll wear then." She chuckled. "And we won't know till then whether I'll reach out and hold your soul safe in my hands . . . . or help to tear it away from you. It all depends after all. It depends on -"   
  


"The Balance." He finished flatly. She laughed and walked away from him. His eyes blurred and the cabin and trees around him began to sway and move. In a moment, he was alone in a thin forest of trees. "Why can nothing ever be easy?" He asked in a tone that Cordelia would likely have told him was 'whiney'. He sighed and made his way back toward the camp, hoping they hadn't left him behind. It'd been a long time since he'd had to use his tracking skills.   
  


******************************************************************************   
  


Buffy prowled the room restlessly, one hand idly worrying the small, rapidly healing, cut on her arm. She spared an annoyed thought for the young Slayer who'd given it to her - girl had landed a lucky blow - and sighed heavily as she stopped to glare at the circle of men in the center of the room. They'd wanted her to stand in the middle the whole time they were chanting, but she wasn't about to just stand there for hours while the Vienna Watcher's Choir droned on and on. She spared a glance for Stefan, who leaned against the wall opposite her in a deceptively casual pose, his golden eyes fixed on the chanters with glowing intensity. A brief shudder of hatred went through her, and her lip curled in distaste. Soul or no, she hated him. When this was over . . .   
  


The men in the circle's chanting fell down to a low, monotonous hum. She arched a questioning eyebrow at Stefan, who nodded and gestured to the circle. She stalked forward and ducked beneath their joined hands and stepped into the circle. "Alright, ready, set, magic!" She demanded with a grin, ignoring Stefan's glare.   
  


As one, the men in the circle reached forward and touched her. She snarled reflexively at the contact, her face shifting as she fell into a crouch and reached for the nearest neck. "Slayer!" Stefan's voice boomed out a warning and she remembered herself.   
  


Her face resumed its normal appearance and she relaxed as the hands settled on her. "Eww. Clammy hands. And lotion is your friend. Yes, I'm talking to you, Mr. Short, pale and -" She gasped, eyelids slamming shut as the dim Watcher's fortress faded away and she sped weightlessly through empty night sky.   
  


The sun had set and the moon was climbing the horizon. The fields and trees of rural Europe flew by beneath her as she moved through the air without weight, body, or effort. "Oh yeah, this doesn't suck at all." She muttered, a grin spreading across her pale face.   
  


Stefan intruded on the scenery. "Find Katerina." He commanded, irritation plain in his inhuman voice. She couldn't see him, but she knew his clawed fingers were clenched.   
  


"I'll get to it. Slavedriving ass." She forced her mind to focus on Katerina, and felt her path change. The land flew by swifter now, and she knew she was rapidly approaching her goal. She was almost disappointed when Katerina's small army came into view. They moved in a slow, straggling line across the fields. She looked around, her modern mind trying to remember the landmarks she'd seen hundreds of years ago, when she'd been another woman. In a moment she had it, and smiled. "Denhurn. Headed straight for Denhurn. Would have been my second or third guess, definitely. Predictable Kat. I'm disappointed."   
  


"And the others?"   
  


A wave of resentment for Stefan surged through her, but she pushed it away. After a moment, she saw first one familiar face, then two. She was searching again, when, with an almost painful wrench, she found herself back in her body, standing in the center of a circle of nervous Watchers. "Damn! What the hell happened? You guys not eat your Wheaties this morning? I thought I saw -"   
  


"We did not send you back there to 'think' you saw anything, Vampire. We sent you for certainty. Did these fighters who followed you return with you?" Despite the demon's face he now wore, the expression on Stefan's face was utterly familiar to Buffy. For a moment, she was a child in this man's house again.   
  


She shook her head, and the moment passed. She matched him glare for glare. "The Mod Squad here brought me back a bit early, so I didn't make it back with an exact count for you. But at least two are here, maybe more. Couldn't say. The two that are here will be a big enough problem."   
  


"Who are they?"   
  


"Well, one's a Watcher. He'd have fit right in here - uptight, obnoxious, big on rules and rituals. Knows his stuff though. The other's a vampire with a soul. Big chosen champion of the good guys. Not the best person to have on the team opposite you. Trust me, I know."   
  


"Just a vampire? We've Slayers enough to handle one vampire."   
  


Buffy snorted in laughter. "You don't know this vampire." Stefan started to object and she raised one hand. "Shut up. I'm thinking." She was mildly surprised, and greatly amused, when he obeyed. She pushed the Watchers back, knocking two of them to the floor as she resumed her pacing. Stefan said nothing, merely watched with folded arms and narrowed eyes. Finally she halted and faced him. "Alright, here's the deal. Basically, I'm here to put you on even odds with Katerina. The rest of the circus is you all's fault. Now with what I know, maybe we coulda' taken Kat out of the game for a while, at least. But with Angel and Wes back there, it isn't going to do any good, or at least not much. The other side's still got leaders. They won't want to follow a vampire, but Nicholas could convince them." She frowned fiercely, punching distractedly at the wall as she thought. Suddenly, a brilliant smile spread across her pretty face. "Ohhh. I know. What we need is a few X-factors."   
  


Buffy jabbed a finger into the nearest Watcher's chest. "Get together a small group - two Slayers and eight mercenaries." He looked at her uncertainly. "Now, while we're young okay? Or I could eat you and see if the next guy in line is faster." He paled and hurried away, casting a glance at the glowering Stefan as he left.   
  


"You will not give orders without alerting me to your plans first, Vampire."   
  


She slanted a look at the demon and grinned without humor. "We already did this whole spitting contest, didn't we. I'm pretty sure I won. Doesn't matter though. I'll tell you." She laughed again. "You're gonna love this, Big Red."   
  


______________________________________________________________________________ 


	16. Divisions

Author's Note: Can you believe how long is taking? Geez, I'm pathetic. Anyways, here's the next part for the two people probably still reading this. Thanks as always to those who've emailed me with reviews, suggestions, and encouragements. They are much appreciated. Thanks also to Santa Claus, who was very, very nice to me this Christmas.  
  
  
  
Part Fifteen: Divisions  
  
"The last temptation is the greatest treason: to do the right deed for the wrong reason." T. S. Eliot  
  
They really needed more horses. They walked slowly, accommodating the old men and women and the children in their group. Mounted riders rode in a loose circle around them, keeping watch and making sure they all moved the right way. Angel was glad for the bright moonlight overhead, as there weren't all that many torches either, and the moon was their only true source of light. He walked in the rear, feeling the eyes of the riders behind him boring into his back at regular intervals. People surrounded him, but he couldn't remember the last time he felt so alone.  
  
Someone rode toward him, against the flow of traffic. He recognized Wesley from the way he moved, the familiar gesture to push back glasses that hadn't survived the haphazard trip through time. The Watcher dismounted and fell into step beside him and cleared his throat, the rangy bay gelding he'd been riding trailing along behind them. "I don't suppose anyone's told you where we're going, or what's going on?" He asked abruptly, idly fussing with the reins he clutched in one hand.  
  
Angel shook his head. "I'm pretty much getting the silent treatment." He smiled a bit as he thought of Leonie and Catherine. "With a few exceptions." He looked at the other man. Wesley looked . . . good. He looked healthy and alert and somewhat energized. And somehow, despite the obvious shortage, the man had managed to wrangle a horse for himself. Angel shook his head. Wesley was, apparently, in his element. "So what are they not telling me? And where's Tara and Spike?"  
  
Wesley shrugged. "I've not seen Spike. Perhaps we lost him somewhere." His tone implied that he didn't really think this was much of a loss. "Tara is with Catherine and a few of their other magic-minded people. She's made quite an impression I believe. Nicholas said that Catherine was quite impressed with Tara's knowledge and abilities."  
  
"I know. Catherine told me."  
  
Wesley looked surprised. "You've spoken with Catherine?"  
  
Angel nodded. "She came back to see me. We . . . talked for a minute." He slanted a look at the former Watcher. "Why is that so surprising?"  
  
"Oh no, it's not. It's just that, well. I -eh, she . . ." Angel sighed. "You heard Nicholas tell her to stay away from me, right?"  
  
Wesley echoed his sigh and nodded. "Both of you, actually. He's not terribly trusting of either of you, but I do believe he dislikes Spike more than you. But then, who doesn't?" He smirked and shrugged. "It's a big change for them, Angel. They'll come around when they realize-"  
  
"It doesn't really matter Wes, as long as they let us help. Which I think they will. The girl, Leonie, seemed to think as much."  
  
Wesley smiled. "Unusual child, that one. I suspect our modern day Council would have found her a handful."  
  
"Our modern day Council can't handle any teenage females, let alone powerful Slayers. I think they've proved that well enough over the years." He thought briefly of Faith, pale and angry and handcuffed in his mansion as he tried to convince her she was on the wrong path. Thoughts of Buffy crowded in, but he pushed them away. "So where is she taking us?"  
  
"That's a bit of a controversial topic, actually." Wesley glanced behind them, noting the distance to the riders who followed. The gelding perked its ears and pushed at him with its head, obviously bored. Wesley gave the animal a light pat and turned back to Angel. "She's ordered that we make for the ruins at Denhurn."  
  
Angel shrugged. "So? Why is that such a controversy?"  
  
"Denhurn is defensible, according to the people I've spoken with. It also grants access to a large underground formation. Underground tombs, storage basements or the like, I assume. Places with narrow entryways and large spaces. The walls that remain are thick stone, and the place sits on a hill. We'll see anything coming. Though I understand there are a great deal of trees on the hill as well, which will impede visibility. But still, not a bad place for a siege."  
  
Angel gave Wesley a confused look. "So why is everyone not behind this decision?" A thoughtful look crossed his brow. "Underground?" He connected the dots and gave a grunt of realization. "Inhabited?"  
  
Wesley gave him an affirmative nod. "Not only a vampire lair, but apparently its the lair of The Master and his current Family. Katerina rode ahead on that bloody great dragon to tell the Master we're coming. She says he'll clear his people out, that he has other lairs. Her army, Nicholas in particular, has less faith. There are whispers that she is far too close to her vampire kin. The Slayer chid, Leonie, she very nearly gave a young man a concussion for implying that Katerina might betray them when this was over."  
  
Angel clenched a fist. "Why would they think she would betray them like that, after everything she's done?" "Not all of them do. In fact, most of them don't I believe. Some of them feed on the fears of a few, as it always is. The older magic users, the few who fled the Council to aid the opposition instead, they have doubt. I think they always have, but Katerina's recent actions are simply fueling the fire."  
  
Angel sighed. "She already left to meet the Master?"  
  
"She rode out some time ago. Leonie tried to follow her, but was firmly discouraged. It's a good three hours to Denhurn at this pace, I'm assured." He shook his head. "I think this may prove to be a good move on her part, but it's an unfortunate choice she had to make. I'm certain she's less than happy about it."  
  
Angel said nothing, his own thoughts wandering. The horse behind him tossed his head, his nose grazing Angel's arm. Angel smiled slightly. "Less than one horse for every ten people, and you manage to get one?"  
  
Wesley shrugged modestly. "Nicholas allowed me to borrow his." He arched an eyebrow. "I take it you want to use it?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "No. I was just impressed by your resourcefulness." He stared ahead for a moment. "So we keep walking until Kat gets back?"  
  
"No. We march for another hour or so, then rest and wait for Katerina to return, in case she has changed our destination." He hesitated. "They all wait on her. For all their complaints, nothing is done here without her permission."  
  
A faint, rueful smile crossed the vampire's face. "No. It wouldn't be." He hesitated, memories of the spell Katerina had mentioned Catherine performing dancing through his mind. "Or at least not usually." The two men fell silent and walked, the horse trailing them with a bemused expression on its long face.  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
"They wonder where you've gone. Though I think you do not want to be found, yes?" A soft smile spread across her lips. "I won't tell them I've found you. Though perhaps you should come back when Twilight returns." Catherine glanced around at the trees that surrounded them, idly swinging the dim oil lamp she held. The light from it flickered across his face and turned the darkened trees to a pale glimmering shade of brown. "Do you hide from all of us, or just from those you know?"  
  
Spike hesitated. "Everyone luv. Though no one but the ones I came with are likely to go looking for me."  
  
"Oh." Her face fell, the expression soft and child like. "Would you like me to leave?"  
  
He did. He desperately wanted her to go. Her presence, the way she moved, the timber of her voice - little nagging familiarities that made him ache in familiar ways. He wanted to be alone with the dark and the trees. But somehow he didn't say it. "No. You can stay."  
  
She smiled again. "You're wrong you know."  
  
She fell silent, apparently waiting for a response. Dru had done that. Simple declarations could take hours because she insisted on dragging it out into some elaborate question and answer ceremony. He sighed and played along. "Am I?" He waited for her nod then prodded again. "How so?"  
  
"Nicholas would have searched for you. He does not like you wandering the camp unwatched. The other - Angel - stays where he can be seen. He worries more about you."  
  
Spike smiled with a great deal of self-satisfaction. "Does he now?" And well he should. After all, he was far more menacing than bloody, brooding Angelus.  
  
"Mmm . . ." She made noncommittal noises as she turned slowly about. She spied a small fallen tree near Spike and perched delicately on it, long fingers pleating and unpleating her skirts as she watched him. "Had you not been seen when Katerina returned, he'd have searched for you. Or asked that Katerina do it. He does not ask her for things these days, though. There is a freeze between them." Her ands lifted and she mimed a great distance somehow, in indistinct gestures. "A coldness that keeps them distant." She turned and looked into the horizon and half pointed. "They watch from the air. She will return soon, and lead us to the darkness." Her eyes were distant and hazy. The place she pointed to was opposite the direction of the rest of their meager army.  
  
It was automatic. In the dim light she was so like Drusilla, vacant and dreamily distant, all long lean lines and slow breathing. The breath had been unnecessary in Dru. He'd always been able to tell when she'd been Seeing. She had breathed in frightened and pointless little gasps that made her seem fragile and alive as she curled her body into a fearful ball. Catherine's breath was steady and slow, her back straight. She leaned away from him as he wrapped his tattered coat around her. All little reminders that she was no Drusilla, still, he knew her. "Have you been Seeing, pet?" He settled back on the rock he'd claimed as a seat, watching as she pulled the leather tightly around her and stared at him in confusion.  
  
It was a long moment before she answered. "I cannot tell these last days. I dream. I See. And I live. The three blend together until I cannot tell where one ends and the others begin. I pray for a sign of what is to come, but if it has come I cannot say if it is true. I have seen us lose. I have seen us win. I have seen a place as gray as mist, where no one wins and nothing ends and we are nothing but shadows and there is nothing but Regret." She looked at him and the distance was gone from her eyes. Her gaze was direct and present in a way Drusilla's had almost never managed to be. "Does that make me mad?"  
  
He shook his head and sighed, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree. "No. I've seen mad. You're not nearly there."  
  
She smiled sadly. "I wonder sometimes. My kind often falls into the void of insanity, you know. I read it once, in the books of the Watchers that I was not supposed to read." She thrust her hands into the pockets, exploring them with a strange fascination. After a moment she returned her attention to him. "Things were not so difficult, in days past. Our days were not so wrought with difficulties. It makes it difficult to discern the truth."  
  
He looked at her questioningly. "What truth?"  
  
She waved an impatient hand. "The truth of what is and what is not. It used to be clear to me. I'd See when I was awake, dream when I slept, and live in between the two. Nicholas has always reminded me of what is real." She sighed. "But sometimes I think he has forgotten now as well."  
  
Spike paused, remembering the conversations he'd overheard earlier. "Been busy lately, has he?"  
  
She nodded. "I understand though. These are busy times. We all buzz about like bees, working to survive." She smiled. "He must spend time with Katerina, so we can win this war."  
  
He hesitated. "Does it . . . bother you then? How much time they spend together."  
  
He expected her to wave it off, to ask what he meant, to give some cryptic Dru-ish answer. He expected anything but the level, glinting gaze she gave him. "You want to know if it bothers me that he is in love with her?" He sputtered a bit and she grinned. "I am not always oblivious to the world around me, vampire. Do not mistake a Seer's burden for stupidity."  
  
He shook his head. She was right, and that was a mistake he should have learned not to make long ago. Drusilla had seen everything, though she had not seen it the way the rest of the world did. ("You walk in worlds the others can't begin to imagine.") Yes. He should have remembered. "Doesn't that bother you? Unless I'm reading it wrong, Nicholas is your love muffin, right pet?"  
  
She gave him a puzzled look, confused by his wording, then smiled wistfully. "No. It does not."  
  
"And why's that?"  
  
She shrugged, the jacket sliding back down her shoulders as she did. She pulled it up again and tilted her head as she spoke. "He loves her as an artist loves his sculpture. She is distant, unattainable and untouchable. She takes what he gives because she must, because it is necessary for her. But she will not return it. She cannot. It is not in her. I give him what she cannot. I give him peace and contentment and warmth." She shook her head. "She needs him as I do. But she cannot tell him, and he cannot see it. They are stubborn. Alike in many ways, I suppose. It is all so different now."  
  
He waited a moment as the silence spread into palpable thickness, then prompted her. "Different how?"  
  
She looked at him without really seeing him, lost in her own thoughts. "Stefan's return changed things. He organized the Council. We have no moments of safety and peace anymore. His reappearance pushed us into a war we had not thought to fight for a few more years. Katerina grew colder, more distant. She is less human with ever passing day I think. Nicholas grew harsh and angry, I think, both because of the war and because of Twilight's actions. There was a time when I would have called us friends. He smiled often then, and he could make her laugh. He made all of us laugh. We were different people then."  
  
She came back to the present and looked at him with that strange smile. "We are allies now, but I would no longer say we are friends. It saddens me to know that. Nicholas turned from her to me. It was natural, John has even called it inevitable. My head is cluttered, and I need someone who can pull me back, who can paint the lines between reality and dreams for me and make them solid. Nicholas does that. I need him, and he loves me because he must feel needed. Katerina does not think she needs anyone. She could never make him happy, even if she were capable of being what he wants her to be."  
  
Spike looked at her, feeling a wave of sadness for this girl who had settled for being loved by default. "And what if she was? What if she realized that she loved him, and told him she needed him, and he left you? What would you do then?"  
  
She looked at him with a solemn sadness that was far older than she was. "Then I would kiss him goodbye and wish them well and find someone else to anchor my mind, if not my heart." She tilted her head again and pushed her hair back. "But it could not happen. Katerina is cold."  
  
He nodded. "You're probably right luv."  
  
She smiled and leaned back on her hands, staring up through the trees to the stars above. "I never tire of the stars. Sometimes I wonder if they haven't a life of their own."  
  
Spike looked upward, memories clouding his mind. "Have you named them all then?"  
  
She laughed. "If I named them, I would give them all the same name, so that I could call them and they would all come charging out at once, and paint the sky as bright as daylight." She looked at him. "Do you think they have names of their own? I know there are those who've named the heavens. But I wonder what the stars call themselves when they speak."  
  
He shook his head. "Maybe they don't speak."  
  
She looked at him with grave seriousness. "Of course they do. If you listen hard enough, you will hear them." She paused and turned toward the camp. "Katerina is returning." She stood and tossed his coat at him with a grateful smile. "Will you come as well?"  
  
He nodded. "In a sec." He watched her walk away and then turned his gaze upwards, giving the brightest star in his vision a baleful look. "Bloody stars."  
  
**************************************************************************** **  
  
"Wh-where have you been?"  
  
"Around. Wasn't in a hurry to be gawked at. Kat came back, huh?"  
  
Tara nodded shortly. "Yes. S-she's talking to Nicholas, John, and Wesley. D-do you think we should go in?"  
  
"No." Spike grinned and shoved his hands into his pockets. "But let's go anyway, eh?" He wrapped his hand around her arm and half dragged her toward where he guessed they were, ignoring the reproachful stares of the people around them. "Where's Angel?"  
  
Tara, distracted by the people watching them, blinked. "What?"  
  
"Angel. Big fellow. Wears black. Usually looks like he's constipated and annoyed about it. Occasionally fangy."  
  
She smiled and pulled her arm out of his grip, pushing her hair back from her face as she walked beside him. "I do-don't know. I was with Ca- Catherine most of the time. I haven't seen him since -"  
  
"Nevermind." Spike rolled his eyes as he caught sight of Angel, who lingered in the shadows near Katerina. Typical. "He's up there stalking Kat and her merry mates." He raised an eyebrow as he saw Wesley, suddenly remembering that Tara had said he was there. "The Watcher's found himself some friends right quick, hasn't he?"  
  
Tara nodded. "He, like, speaks their language or-or something."  
  
"Didn't know Katerina spoke 'wanker'. He sensed Tara's smile more than saw it, and felt a small surge of triumph. Nice girl that one. Red seemed to have the best taste when it came to picking her significant others. Wolf- boy hadn't been bad for her, aside from the wolf thing. And this one would walk on hot coals for her.  
  
Nicholas glared at their approach and Spike gave a broad, insolent wave. Wesley gave a large sigh and nodded toward them. "Spike, we'd wondered where you'd gone. Katerina has just finished telling us where she plans to take us."  
  
Spike looked from Nicholas' angry face, to John's pensive one, finally settling on Kat's utterly expressionless countenance. "I take it the decision wasn't met with parades and daisies?"  
  
Kat smirked a bit. "It does not matter. No one here has a better option." Nicholas opened his mouth and she silenced him with a look. "We ride to Denhurn. There we can hold off a much larger force than we would be able to otherwise." She turned and quickly found Leonie who was, as always, hovering nearby. "Take Sean and spread the word. We move now." The child hesitated, searching the faces of those around her, then dashed off in search of Sean. Katerina smiled wryly as Nicholas turned and walked away without a word. Her attention fell on Tara and Catherine. "And you two, what have you discovered? Do you bring any information useful to us?"  
  
Tara looked down and stammered a bit as Spike glared at Kat. Catherine smiled. "Tara knows much that we do not. We have not yet found where we can aid one another, but we will in time."  
  
Kat nodded in agreement. She arched an eyebrow at John. "And our meager scholarly members, John? Do they grumble and complain but dodder alongside the rest of the old ones?"  
  
He nodded. "They dislike Denhurn, as do we all. But they will go. If there is no other option?"  
  
She shook her head. "There is not. Stay with them then. It is no short walk there for the old ones at night." She waited a moment as one by one they fell away, Catherine catching Tara by the arm and dragging her the way Nicholas had gone. "And you, who hide in shadows. Did you think we did not know you were there? Have you nothing to say?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "I just got here. I can't tell you whether or not you're doing the right thing."  
  
A flash of annoyance. "I did not ask you, just as I did not ask them. I command. I built this army from nothingness. Without me, most here would be dead or enslaved by the Council. I've earned the right to choose the paths we take, Vampire."  
  
It bothered him, the way she said vampire. It was an epithet on her lips, a foul word. It seemed wrong somehow, coming from her, who was a vampire herself. She bothered Spike, here. She was cold and distant and uncaring. It almost hurt to see her like that. He wondered if that was because he'd always expected that she was capable of being this way.  
  
A spark of humor lit in her eye as the massive beast behind her tossed its head and pawed the ground. "Here. Ride with the outriders for a time, and make yourself useful." She tossed him the reins and the stallion gave Angel a baleful look of defiance.  
  
She strode off, looking pleased with herself as the stallion bared large white teeth and snorted angrily. Spike chuckled. "Look, Angel. You've made another new friend. Why not give him a great big hug? If we're lucky he'll take your head off and make the world a less boring place." Angel glared as Spike turned and walked away, wishing he'd thought to bring a camera. He just KNEW Angel was about to get knocked on his arse.  
  
He found her easily enough. She had dropped to the back and now watched from behind with roving eyes. No one stayed back with her. It was as if they expected her there. That bothered him too, for some reason. "You're not winning any popularity contests tonight pet, are you?"  
  
She arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure they'll be more appreciative when they're still alive in a few days."  
  
He shrugged, not really understanding why her choice of destination was so unpopular anyway. "Seems a good theory."  
  
She cast a strange look at him. "What is it you want of me?"  
  
He wanted to talk, to make her smile, to hear her sound like she had when he'd known her. He wanted to look at her and know that he had known the REAL Katerina, and that this was just a shadow of what she could be. "Nothing."  
  
She smiled faintly. "You do not lie well."  
  
He shrugged. "Actually I lie very well most of the time. Must be all this fresh air. Not agreeing with my smog clogged sensibilities." He paused, once again digging for the cigarettes that weren't there. "So what's got their knickers in a twist about this place anyway?"  
  
"It is the lair of the Master and his Family. Or it was. They are moving, as I asked them to do."  
  
"Oh yeah. Can see why that's not high on their list of tourist attractions." He waited for a questioning look for her, but none came. "Suppose there wasn't anywhere else we could go? No one else had any brilliant notions?"  
  
"There is no one else, and no where else. As you should well know." She gave him a hard look. "Not all conversations are meant for your ears. Be careful to not hear things you should not - I am not tolerant of eavesdroppers."  
  
He winced. "Yeah. I remember." An awkward silence descended as she turned from him. He slid his hands into his pockets and slumped his shoulders as he walked, letting his longer strides shorten to fall into lockstep with her. "So yes. I'm a bad man."  
  
"You're not a man." She said it automatically, and with no malice. It still stung him though. He fell back a moment, staring at her in confused pain. She gave no sign of seeing him, watching the forests around her instead.  
  
He shrugged it off. "So, given the general unpopularity of the place in question, why not choose another place? Or let one of those uptight buggers pick a place? One tomb's as good another in the end, isn't it?"  
  
"Do not speak like that. There are those in this army who would take such fatalistic mummery to heart, though I know you do not mean it."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"I am not a fool. I see how you play with words, using them to unsettle those around you. I have known others who were much the same. It is as good a defense as any. Just take care what you say here. You are an outsider. Even outsiders with heartbeats are not easily welcomed here. You could find danger within this camp."  
  
"Thought you ran these merry men, wouldn't have thought they'd stake a chap without your say-so."  
  
She shrugged slightly. "No command is absolute. The hearts of men are fickle, their natures unpredictable. No one can say for certain that they are in control. Not even me."  
  
He studied her. "You wish you could though?"  
  
She hesitated. "It would be easier could I count on them to act as I would."  
  
He snorted. "Oh right, because YOU always do the right thing."  
  
Katerina smiled faintly. "At least I can predict my own mistakes."  
  
"Rubbish. You're about as predictable as a hurricane. Which . . . actually isn't a good analogy 'cause they plot their courses out right enough in my time. But you get my drift. You're a hard one to outguess."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
He slid his gaze around, noting how many eyes fell back to them now with suspicious regularity. "Don't like you talking to me, do they pet?"  
  
"They rarely like what I choose to do these days. You are simply a new point of contention for them to dawdle over, fussing like old men while the Council grows stronger and more bold."  
  
He fell silent for a moment, then asked again. "So why not let them choose somewhere else, if they're so fired up over this Denhurst place?"  
  
"Denhurn. And there is no other place. Denhurn is closest, and most defensible. The ruins at Margate are beset by Venscott demons - not likely to move out at a request from me, and forcing them out would bring too many casualties. Rensalt Village is set in an open field, surrounded by hills - a pretty scene for an ambush, a horror to defend - and contains woman and children who are no part of this war. All other places are too far. The Council could, should they choose to move, catch us as we made our way there. Without cover, battle plans, and a place to hide the young and old we would be decimated. This new move of the Council's is ill timed on our part, and well planned on theirs. Our forces are split in half. My eldest Slayer - Wella - leads the majority of our fighting forces in evasive maneuvers that were meant to distract the Council's attention from the weaker and less expendable section of our army. She was to meet us where you found us, and then we would make our plans. She'll not arrive for another two days, if she survives to meet us at all. Should we move too far, we may not be able to reunite before The Council strikes. We would fall." She plucked a leaf from a low hanging branch as they passed and crumpled it in her fingers. "There is no other place."  
  
"Why not tell them that? Lay it all out and tell them that they can decide, but they really don't have much choice?"  
  
She let the leaf pieces fall and stopped to face him. "Because they could make the wrong choice. Because I do not wish them to know how dire our situation is. Because it would take hours to decide and I cannot spare the time." She paused a moment, her shoulders stiffening as she stared at him. "And because it is MY army. I command. I found them, scattered and trembling in fear of the Council, and gathered them into a force the Council fears. I did that - and it is MY choice to make, MY command to give, and their lot is to follow."  
  
He sighed and started walking. "Well that just sells it." Spike shook his head and she fell into step beside him. "Believe me, I know you're doing the right thing Kitten, but I think you're doing it for the wrong reasons. Poet I used to read said something like that once. He said it better though."  
  
She stiffened. "You cannot understand. You were not here, you have not seen. And I did not ask for your opinion."  
  
"No. You didn't. You don't ask for anyone's, it seems like that's your problem, along with a serious lack of people skills." He caught her hand and felt it clench with bone bruising strength around his own before jerking around. She spun to face him as he stopped. "I know your heart's in the right place, and that you do the right thing - it's the kinda girl you are. But I think you need to reevaluate how you go about it. 'Cause you're fairly scary these days."  
  
She stared at him, and there was a cold fury he'd rarely seen directed at him in her expression. "You know NOTHING of my heart or my intentions, vampire."  
  
"That's rich. I do so! I know your heart as well as anyone does. You always do the right thing, when push comes to shove. You'd sacrifice everything you are and everything you had to do the right thing. Hell, you offed yourself to save the damned world. Think I don't know you? I watched you DIE. I know you." There was a passion and a regret in his tone that he hadn't meant to be there. He spoke with the sincerity of a confession, laying his sins bare for her as she listened with blazing eyes and curled lip. "I know what you'd do for those you think of as friends, and for your cause. I KILLED you, because you told me to, because you'd rather die than fail. You get to know a person after you shove a stake through their heart."  
  
She laughed, high and cold. He shivered as he heard it. "You didn't kill me. You couldn't."  
  
He smiled grimly. "Why, because I'm such a bloody prince? Because I've such a good heart? I've drained Slayers dry in my time. I've snacked on the hearts of children, and watched my lover torture a mother almost to death, then killed her as Dru sliced open her baby in front of her. I've been a bad, bad vampire. And you think I wouldn't slam a piece of wood into your chest when you bat those eyes and ask me pretty? Why? Because I'm such a nice goddamned guy? Because you're so bleeding indestructible? You break into ash, just like the rest of us do, luv."  
  
His fury battered against her icy calm and she shook her head. "No. You can't have killed me because the Master killed me nearly sixty years ago. I am a dead shadow of a thing - like you. Like Angel. I am no more alive than the earth we tread on, or the branches that fall from the trees. We walk as men but we are not. Our hearts are still, and there is no life in us. No true life. Not anymore." She tilted her head, a bitterness drifting through her smile. "There are those who would say that I was not even truly alive before I bent my knees and neck to the Master."  
  
"He's wrong." Spike told her flatly. "I knew you Kitten. I've watched you laugh, walk, talk, scream, and rage. You were alive in every other sense."  
  
"You're a fool. Believe what you will, but the truth is that you could not have really known me. There is nothing to know. I am a Slayer, a Vampire, and a Killer. The rest is deception and camouflage I use to make myself less fearsome in the eyes of those I meet." Her voice gentled a bit. "I cannot say why I played the role of a friend and woman for you and those you know. I suppose I must have had my reasons, in that time. But it cannot be true. I am not capable of friendship." She hesitated. "And I do not even know what love is. It is beyond my limits. I am not made for such things."  
  
"You thanked me as you died. Your eyes were blue and you smiled goodbye and I SAW what you felt. The Master didn't kill that in you. He couldn't."  
  
She shook her head. "Why are you so certain?"  
  
His voice was low and fierce. "Because Drusilla didn't bloody well kill me a century or so back! I'm still ME, if I choose to be." He fell silent, his eyes widening in wonder. "Well, isn't that something?" He muttered to himself, not quite sure what this realization would mean for him, in the long run.  
  
She looked at him in wordless confusion and he smiled faintly, then shifted the topic back to her. "I still feel. I love, I hate, long movies that don't make sense irritate me, and I crave cigarettes. I'm alive. I just don't have to deal with the obnoxious sidebars that come with mortal life. Like death, toilets, waiting in lines for buffets. You could be the same, if you wanted to be."  
  
She fell silent. When she spoke, her voice was smaller. "I am not you, and you are not me. You cannot paint me in with your life and expect that the canvas will be colored the same way. We are not the same."  
  
"No. But we're close enough. You're alive Kitten, if you care to let yourself be. You didn't, last time, not for a long while I'll wager. Spent centuries being uptight and angry - when you weren't napping of course."  
  
The uncertainty vanished, anger taking its place. "Why do you tell me such things, when no one should read the pages of their own future?"  
  
"Because that was the future of the Kitten I knew. The one who'd never heard of Buffy and didn't meet up with me for hundreds of years yet. You don't have to have her future. It doesn't have to play out that way for you. You don't have to be cold and alone for centuries."  
  
"You cannot know that I was, and it is no affair of yours!"  
  
"You told me." Which was close to the truth, really. She'd implied it a time or two, and he was a fairly good guesser.  
  
She narrowed her eyes. "What then shall I do differently? Should I thrust a stake through your heart when first I meet you, so you cannot kill me in the end? Let the world crumble and sit back and rejoice because I lived long enough to see the flames of the end devour everything I worked to preserve?"  
  
Spike shrugged, and felt a stab of misery lance through him. "I can't say, pet. Can't tell you what to do, I just couldn't live without telling you."  
  
"I'm thankful that you've spilled your secrets and lightened the burden on your shoulders, but you've only added to the weight I carry." She snapped at him as she turned away.  
  
He halted in mid-step, stopping himself before he could go after her. A wave of guilt suddenly flooded over him and he hung his head. "I'm sorry."  
  
She spun, her rage back under control. Icy nonchalance held her face immobile again and she smiled wryly. "Do not pretend sorrows you do not feel, vampire." She left him then, disappearing quickly into the night. He moved slowly after the army, wishing there was a tree in his path so he could conveniently bang his head against it.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Buffy stared in open-mouthed disbelief. "Oh come on, you've GOT to be kidding me." A crystal ball, large and flawless and utterly stereotypical sat on the table she'd been led to. "A crystal ball? Please, a little originality people. What are you guys, the wicked witches of the west? Does that make me Glinda?" She paused in consideration. "I always did like her dress as a kid though."  
  
Stefan sighed in exasperation. "You are nonsensical enough to tire anyone. Through here you can watch the fruits of our labors these last hours, should you choose."  
  
"Oh I choose. Should be fun., mayhem, drama, betrayal. Anyone got some popcorn?" She descended into a fit of giggles as Stefan snapped a clawed hand and a young Watcher disappeared, returning moments later with a pot filled with corn, which he thrust into the fire. "The service here is great, four star worthy. Don't suppose you have anything more substantial on the menu?"  
  
Stefan growled faintly but barked at the young Watcher again. "Bring one of the prisoners, one of the wounded ones, who do not labor on our wall."  
  
Buffy grinned in satisfaction as the young man left. "You're not so bad for an evil, arrogant, overly large, insane demon possessed by a dead, tyrannical former Watcher, Stefan."  
  
He ignored her comments. "You realize the risks this plan of yours holds? To perform the rituals, our shielding is lowered. Should they attack now, even their meager magic talents could do a great deal of damage."  
  
"They won't attack. They're not in a position too. Their magic people are all weak as kittens at the moment, and they'll all be a tad bit busy, anyways." She frowned, suddenly, a thought occurring to her. "Your people need a talking to about how quick that last spell of theirs cut out. I didn't have time to see if anyone else came back."  
  
He snorted. "Is there anyone who could cause problems, should they have returned here?"  
  
She hesitated, and then shook her head. "No, not really." An image of Willow lingered in her mind, but she pushed it away. Even if Willow were here, she wouldn't have much of a window to attack. "So when do the fireworks start?"  
  
"As soon as they come within sight of Denhurn's castle." He gave her an assessing look, apparently unconvinced by her response, but said nothing.  
  
Buffy tapped impatiently at the crystal ball. "Where's the power button?"  
  
"It will start when the spells begin to take effect." He sighed and leaned back. "This will not slow them for long. I had hoped for more from you."  
  
"Give me time. I have to find my stride back here. It's not easy jumping time zones and turning evil all in one fell swoop." She frowned. "What does that mean anyway, one fell swoop? What's a swoop? And why is it falling?"  
  
"I've no idea, and no interest in finding out."  
  
"You're no fun big red. All work and no play makes Stefan a dull demon. And dull demons find the pointy end of the stake pretty fast." He scowled and started to answer, but the young Watcher returned. He dragged a young man - a boy really - behind him. The boy was bleeding from a wound in his arm, his face was pale and dirty and he stared at the floor with dull eyes. Buffy wrinkled her nose. "He smells rotten. Don't you guys have any fresh meat?"  
  
"Make do with what you're given. You've other matters to attend to."  
  
"Oh fine. Leave me alone. Go on, shoo. I want to watch the movie and have a snack without you breathing down my neck." Buffy stood and pulled the boy toward the crystal ball and the table it sat on.  
  
Stefan growled faintly. "One hour. Then we talk again."  
  
"Oh, I'm so looking forward to that conversation." Buffy rolled her eyes and glared angrily at the door Stefan pulled shut behind him, scowling at the tell-tale sound of a bolt sliding home. "I could BREAK THAT if I wanted to, you know. I won't, but I could." She yelled after him.  
  
She yanked the wooden chair back and straddled it, staring into the blank crystal for several long moments. A soft sound drew her attention back to the boy they'd left with her. She sighed. "Relax kid. I'm not hungry yet. Have a seat. Have some popcorn." She gestured toward the pot they'd left near the fire. He stared at her with large, dark eyes that lacked even a vestige of comprehension. She waved a hand. "Hello? Let me guess, English not your first language, right? Great." She mimed sitting and pointed to him. "Sit!" He obeyed after a long, confused moment and she sighed. "Good boy." She kicked the popcorn toward him and watched as he dug into it with desperate hunger. "Not feeding you well, huh? Can't say I'm surprised. These guys aren't big with the spending funds. I mean, look at this decor."  
  
He said nothing, just ate in silence, watching her warily. She looked away and fell silent as well, staring quietly into the crystal ball. She was startled when it flickered into sudden, vivid life. She saw Katerina's face, tense and drawn and filled with anger and watched as the rest of her army drifted slowly into view. In the background, the grim, shadowed mass of Denhurn bulked above them. She settled back in her chair and watched intently. "Let the games began." She said quietly, fingers drumming on the table as she watched. She paused a moment and looked at the boy. "Don't know about you, but I'm awfully tired of games. Hundreds of years in the past, and I still have to play the cards I'm dealt." He nodded hesitantly, obviously not understanding. She looked away, satisfied with his response, ignorant as it had been. "Alright Katerina. Ante up." She smiled faintly. She always had hated poker. She frowned suddenly, her eyes once again assessing the men and woman who followed Katerina. "There's not enough of them." She began counting, scowling. She shot a sideways glance at the boy. "Don't suppose you know what it is I'm forgetting, do you?"  
  
He said a single word in a language she didn't understand and Buffy sighed. "Yeah. That's helpful, thanks."  
  
  
  
He followed her at a distance, not wishing to disturb her again, but wanting to be near enough to see her. He saw Angel doing much the same from atop the stallion she'd tossed at him. He was doing well enough, truth be told. Spike found it somewhat disappointing. He'd rather counted on seeing Angel fall on his arse. It would have helped his mood immensely. Katerina had moved slowly but surely to the front of the lines as they walked, pausing to speak with people here and there. Another shadow followed her from atop a large, fat pony. Spike recognized the child- Slayer, Leonie with a smile. Girl was persistent, had to give her that. Katerina gave none of them any notice.  
  
Spike barely looked up as Wesley intercepted him. The former Watcher cleared his throat pointedly until Spike looked at him. "Yes? Did you choke on something while you were licking Nicholas' boots, or did you have some vastly uninteresting tidbit of knowledge to impart?"  
  
Wesley flushed and stammered a moment, then regained his composure. "Much as it would PAIN me to see you accidentally staked by some suspicious member of Twilight's camp, feel free to keep following her like this if you must. I'll be sure to cry over your ashes."  
  
Spike shrugged. "They're going to stake me for keeping an eye on the woman? Mite touchy, aren't they?"  
  
"Yes. They are. If you don't want to end your days as dust in the grass here, leave her be. They don't trust you."  
  
"Seem to trust you though, gave you a horse and everything."  
  
"Well, I'm less likely to kill them all in their sleep and drink their blood if I get a mite peckish."  
  
The vampire snorted and nodded toward Angel. "Don't see you telling him to back off."  
  
"He's my next stop. I'll likely try a bit harder to convince him, too."  
  
Spike almost smiled, but bit it back just in time. "Fine, go run off with your message little Watcher. I can take care of myself."  
  
Wesley sighed and gave his horse's reins a rough jerk. The animal tossed its head in irritation as Wesley made his way toward Angel. Spike watched him, still hopeful that someone would hit the dirt tonight. "Bugger." He muttered as Wesley made it without further incident and fell into step with Angel's stallion. "My luck's gone all to hell these days."  
  
"There's no such thing as true luck. Luck is just another way of saying God's will." He spun to face Catherine, who smiled at him. "You wanted him to fall, didn't you?"  
  
He blinked. "Watch that sneaking up on people, pet. It doesn't go over well, especially with us fangy folk." He considered asking her how, exactly, she had managed to sneak up on him, as that wasn't easily done, but refrained. "And yeah, might have given us all a laugh if he'd tumbled."  
  
"What if he had gotten hurt?" She smiled. "You'll say you don't care, but you really do. Tara says you're not nearly so fearsome as you wish you were."  
  
He scowled. "She don't know the half of it. Silly bint wasn't around back in my Big Bad days."  
  
She shook her head. "Do not be cross with her. She meant no harm. She was reassuring Nicholas."  
  
"She told NICHOLAS that?" His scowl deepened, and he made a mental note to have a long talk with the little witch very, very soon about keeping her mouth shut when it came to decimating his reputation. "Well that's just lovely then."  
  
She chuckled. "You spoke with Twilight, after she left us did you not? Was she . . . well? She seemed so angry."  
  
He shrugged, not wanting to discuss this topic with her. "She's right enough I guess. Bit worried is all."  
  
She nodded. "We all are. We-"  
  
Spike jerked his head around as a scream came from the front of the line. He cursed and began sprinting toward the sound, seeing Angel and Wesley do the same. Katerina's voice rang out. "Leonie, take the old ones and children to the back, Nicholas send the armed forces to the front. Outriders to me! Now!" The orders spread back along the straggling line as Spike reached the front.  
  
He gaped in surprise as he looked ahead of them. The earth in front of them was tearing, great hunks ripping apart as vampires clawed their way free, growling and charging as they found their feet. He fumbled in his jacket, searching for the stake that wasn't there. He felt one pressed into his hand and saw Leonie scuttling away, pushing several small children and old men in front of her with the easy strength of a Slayer. Some remained, old men held still by stubbornness and fear. She ignored them, taking those who cared for their lives and leaving the rest to their fates.  
  
Angel rushed beside him, leaping from the horse's back and releasing the reins. The animal turned tail and galloped away toward where Leonie had gone. Spike saw Angel stumble to a halt, a surprised expression on his face as he stared into the face of the vampire in front of him. "Luke?" Spike blinked in confusion as the vampire gave no notice of Angel and surged forward toward them. Spike leapt forward and slid a stake into its chest.  
  
"Yeah, how you like that, dirty bastard?!" Spike bellowed enthusiastically as the stake slid deep into the heart. He yanked it free and turned toward the others that were rising from the earth. "Who's next?" Big hands closed around his shoulders and spun him back around. He blinked as he saw the vampire he'd just staked rearing back for a punch. He staggered back as the fist collided with his fist and wiped the blood from his nose with his free hand. "Don't know if you missed it in the Vampire Guide mate, but you're supposed to be dust right about now." The vampire rushed on, heedless of Spike's comments. He dodged easily and plunged the stake again, with no better results. He shoved the vampire hard to the ground and moved toward Angel, looking for Katerina. "Something not right here."  
  
Angel nodded. "That's one of the Master's children. By our time, he was the Master's new go-to boy."  
  
An old man stood nearby. At Angel's words he gave a low cry of fury. "Treachery! Betrayal by our own! The Eternal Twilight leads us into a nest of vipers! Her own kin attack from out of the Earth!" The whispers spread like wildfire, others taking up the fearful cry as the fighters charged into battle against the vampires the earth was belching forth.  
  
Spike searched for Katerina after shooting Angel a look of disgust for his over-large mouth. He found her a moment later, standing still as a stone and staring at the vampires with a stunned bewilderment. "Kitten, what's going on?"  
  
She shook her head. "I don't understand. These are the Master's. I recognize them. I feel the likeness in our blood. It makes no sense. He promised. He's never reneged. I was so sure . . ."  
  
She seemed paralyzed by these realizations. Spike watched as the vampires began wading against the fighters. "Kat luv, we have to make a decision here. They're not dusting. I staked one, and he just kept coming. What do we do?"  
  
She looked at him, and there was a miserable helplessness in her. "I . . . I don't know." She winced as one of theirs fell, a vampire carrying him to the ground with a feral snarl. "This is all wrong . . ."  
  
"Stakes away! Pass torches, go to swords. Beheadings and fire, stakes cannot wound these." Leonie's voice, high and fierce managed to carry throughout the front of the lines. Slowly, they began to do as she said, torches passing from hand to hand as they renewed and changed their attack.  
  
The child surged forward like a force of nature, weapons flying through her hands with practiced ease. "Twilight! The rear riders came in. An advance scout party approaches from the Council. There are Slayers among them, and mercenaries. We must finish this now!"  
  
Katerina looked at her with a strange detachment. The old man spoke again, his cries followed by the others who stood near him, who took it up as their cause. "Twilight has led us to the slaughter like lambs. We would be fools to follow her lead now!" He spat at her feet and turned away. "Where is Nicholas?"  
  
Katerina raised empty silver eyes toward Spike as Leonie rushed past her, throwing herself into battle, a sword in one hand and a flaming torch in the other. "I have doomed us all."  
  
They stood alone, Angel, Spike, and Kat, an island of calm in the midst of what had suddenly become a sea of confusion. Somewhere a woman screamed a blade bit through flesh, but it was quiet where they stood. "It's not over, Katerina." Angel said, his voice low and definite.  
  
She laughed, bitter and defeated. "It will be. I have been played for a fool, and damn me for my ignorance. We are lost." She slid away from them as silently as water, pale hands seizing a torch from the hand of a fighter near her. She surged into battle, and they followed in her wake. 


End file.
